


Flames of Cobalt and Crimson

by HisAndHisAlone



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Angst, Azriel Top/Bottom, Battle Scenes, Canon Divergence - After ACOFAS, Canon Plausible, Cassian Top/Bottom, Cazriel, Chaptered, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, It's not any more violent than the books though, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Minor Original Character(s), Nesta is Leaving!, Ongoing story, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), POV Cassian (ACoTaR), Slow Burn, Tags May Change, There's actually a plot, Unwitting Mates, Wings, versatile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAndHisAlone/pseuds/HisAndHisAlone
Summary: There is unrest in the Illyrian camps, and a troubling silence from the Hewn City. Azriel hasn't been able to get his spies in or out, but they know better than to leave Keir to his own devices. Nesta is leaving to travel the world, and a heartbroken Cassian isn't sure what his future holds anymore. Can they come to realize the bonds that have always lain between them? And can they find out what Keir is up to before the tenuous peace of Prythian is once again shattered?
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel/Cassian (ACoTaR)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 80





	1. Cover Art!

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after A Court of Frost and Starlight, and is meticulously researched to be canon-compliant, including the Wings and Embers bonus scene. 
> 
> HUGE shout out to [yafan92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yafan92/pseuds/yafan92) and [Gracie_Girl87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracie_Girl87/pseuds/Gracie_Girl87) for their amazing beta suggestions and proof-reading!
> 
> As of the publication of my Chapter 8, ACOSF has been released and I will likely incorporate new details (scenery, characters, and anything new we learn about Cass or Az's backstories) but will not be using any of the actual plot points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GORGEOUS Cazriel artwork by my beautiful and talented friend [Gracie_Girl87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracie_Girl87)  
> Click to Chapter 2 to begin the story!  
> 

[](https://imgur.com/NxsY7LT)


	2. Azriel

It was that same, accursed dream again; the one I‘ve had almost every night for over five hundred years. So real that it felt like I had truly been there, indistinguishable from my memories. The dream that I’d had for the first time when…

I pushed that down deep and rolled, groaning, from my bed. The stone tiles were cold beneath my bare feet, still chilled this early in the morning despite the warmer spring afternoons, and I reminded myself for the hundredth time to buy a rug. The small fire I had banked last night to warm the room had smoldered down to almost nothing, and the warmth had dissipated. Padding over to the washbasin, I began my morning routine and mentally catalogued my tasks for the day. I poured chill water from the ewer into the basin and washed my face, hands, and neck, a few of the droplets dripping down to land on my bare chest. Dipping my hands again, I ran them through my hair to help lay it back down and quickly ran my comb through it. It wasn’t much of an effort; I’d be flying in a few minutes so anything more would’ve been pointless. 

After washing, I selected an undershirt and some comfortable light armor from my rather sparse wardrobe and began pulling the garments on. The bleached linen shirt was almost thin enough to see through as I looked at my reflection, but the leathers would keep me warm until the afternoon spring heat took hold, and then I would be glad of the thinner layer underneath. All my armor was a uniform black leather with overlapping plates and these were no exception, though they were a little older and more supple from wear. I pulled them on, deftly twisting my arms behind me to secure the flaps around my wings with practiced motions. The sleeves flowed over the backs of my hands to hold my siphons and I secured the loop at the end of each around my middle fingers. 

Stomping my feet into my boots, I replayed the list again in my mind. _Meet with the spies in the Palace of Bone and Salt. Pick up the fancy lily bulbs that Elain had special-ordered from the florist and drop them off. Winnow to one or two of the Illyiran camps and do inspections just to keep them on their toes. Family dinner this evening at the townhouse._

I went over each task in more and more detail as I finished dressing, my shadows whispering to me, and finally turned to walk to the balcony. Pulling the heavy door open, I moved to my customary place at the stone railing and took a moment to enjoy the view of Velaris sprawled before me, far below. The city lay in the shadow of the red, flat-topped mountains atop which the House of Wind and I currently stood. The Sidra looked paler and colder than usual in the diffuse morning light, and there was a bit less twinkle to the Rainbow, but I found beauty in the early morning stillness; the pale, washed-out colors edged by deeper shadows not yet chased away by the full light of day. 

There had been many mornings during Amarantha’s reign that I had been sick of this view, sick of being trapped in Velaris, unable to _do_ anything. Forty-nine years I had awoken in this room, or in the town house, and I had eventually come to resent the peaceful city, though never its citizens. Centuries of tenuous peace and an added half-century of anxious monotony had thoroughly removed my gratitude for this beautiful place. But coming home after a war that very nearly killed everyone you love has a way of changing things.

I drank in the view now, as I’ve done every morning since we returned, and took the quiet moment to stretch my wings and roll my neck. The sun was creeping higher and I could just feel a hint of warmth on my back as the sunlight peeked over the top of the mountain. I smiled, stretching my wings out again, this time until they ached, and then hopped up onto the railing. Taking a deep breath and one last look at our beautiful city, I tucked my wings tightly to my back and held my arms open wide, leaning forward, and free-fell off the balcony.

I blinked against the sudden rush of the air and dropped straight down toward the base of the sheer, craggy red mountain. I let myself become that little boy who couldn’t fly; let myself feel the familiar bloom of terror unfurl low in my gut. I pulled my arms in tight to my sides and as always, just for a moment, I imagined doing it. I considered just closing my eyes, wrapping my shadows tight to block out the world, and let the impact and darkness swallow me whole.

In the last instant before I had to pull out, I saw it again: a flash of Morrigan, naked, as I reached for her with smooth, un-scarred hands…

My wings snapped open, the long muscles of my back groaning at the yanking sensation as I banked hard to the southwest, pulling out of the fatal dive. My heart hammered against my ribs and that thrilling jolt that helped bring me to life every day shivered through me. I had stopped questioning this side of myself a long time ago, this shadowed part of me that needed the thrill, the fear, and sometimes the pain, in order to feel truly _awake_.

I angled toward the Palace of Bone and Salt, the quarter of the city where foodstuffs could be purchased, but my eyes involuntarily sought the familiar roof of the townhouse with its little rooftop garden, barely a smudge of green from this distance. Mor might be awake by now, on her way downstairs to eat breakfast. Or perhaps she was still sleeping, her golden hair fanned across her pillow. It was too easy to picture the faint, rosy blush of sleep on her cheeks and her lips slightly parted-

I stifled another groan and shoved those thoughts firmly aside. Again. At least today I didn’t feel the almost physical magnetism that sometimes seemed to pull me toward wherever she was. I willed myself to focus and pointedly fixed my eyes on my destination, aiming for a particular intersection of shaded alleys behind and between the houses, shops, and food vendors. It came into focus gradually as I let myself lose altitude and slowed my wingbeats to glide over the city. 

I landed a few streets away from the rendezvous, in the middle of the white-cobbled road, and began to walk. There were a few people out on the streets despite the early hour, and they bustled with groggy purpose. I rounded the sandstone corner of a bakery when nobody seemed to be near, slipped into the shadows between buildings, and wrapped myself in them, disappearing. I prowled the rest of the way to the meeting spot, carefully placing my feet to avoid the refuse in the alley and to keep my steps light and silent. I chose a particularly shaded spot to wait and watch the alley intersection, leaning against a building made of the red stone from the mountains.

The outlines of my spies formed from the gloom across the way as they approached carefully, silent and vigilant, and right on time. 

Perfect.

* * *

I ended up visiting three different Illyrian camps before I was finally able to winnow, exhausted, to the street in front of the townhouse. Those bastards had put me in a foul mood and now I couldn’t decide between being glad for the family dinner or resenting it. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, though, I felt a gentle tugging in the center of my chest, like a thread, pulling me invisibly toward the house. Gods damn it.

I finger-combed my hair, trying to lay it down at least a little bit, and blew out a sigh. It was going to be one of _those_ nights again. I headed toward the door, and I found a small smile on my lips when I saw those fancy lily bulbs just barely peeking out of freshly turned earth at the leading edge of the garden. They would be on prominent display once they grew and bloomed.

I stepped through the heavy wooden door onto the white marble and crossed to the foyer. I could hear their voices to the left and Rhys’s laugh rolling out through the open door of the sitting room, but I could have found them from the magnetism alone. I was being pulled inexorably in that direction and I couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to. 

From the doorway, I saw exactly what I expected to see. Everyone present was in their usual places; Rhys and Feyre leaned together on the couch furthest from my vantage point, his arm draped around her shoulders. They smiled at me and nodded their greetings. Across from them, Elain perched primly in one of the overstuffed armchairs, and Cassian and Mor shared the other couch in the center, facing the black marble fireplace. It was to these two that my eyes were drawn, despite myself. 

Morrigan held a wine glass casually, the contents so pale they were nearly clear, and nearly gone. The firelight caught stray strands of her golden hair, causing them to sparkle, and her cheeks were flushed from libations and laughter. She sat with her feet propped familiarly in Cassian’s lap, as she often did, but rather than looking indulgently amused, Cassian appeared distracted. She smiled at me when she saw me, face radiant, and I felt my breath catch. I could’ve sworn I felt that thing in my chest _tugging_ ; the thing that I knew couldn’t be a mating bond. 

“Azriel,” she beamed. “Thank the Mother, I’m starving.”

She causally shoved her nearly emptied wine glass into Cassian’s available hand before swinging herself from the couch onto her feet. She practically flowed from the sitting room on a phantom wind to the threshold of the foyer before half-turning with a quick clap of her hands. Cauldron boil me, how could someone possess that much perfect grace and agility?

“Well, come on. I’m not waiting any longer.” She called, before pointedly walking toward the dining room.

Elain rose from her seat with her particularly calm, dignified beauty, exceptionally poised even for an immortal, before making her way past me with a soft smile.

“Hey!” Cassian grumbled, clinking the two wine glasses as he set them down on the smooth low lying table before the couch. “How come _he_ gets all the smiles, but the _one_ time I’m late you bite my head off?” His tone was playful, but he seemed like he was trying too hard to banter with her tonight. 

“It was more than once and you know it!” She taunted, crossing her arms from the opposite doorway. She didn’t even look my way, too busy with whatever game she and Cassian were now playing. 

“What say you, brother?” He mumbled, looking to me. “Help me out here.” 

For the second time today since I arrived outside, a smile tilted my lips and I couldn’t resist the urge to poke at him a little. 

“Well, in Mor’s defense, there’s not much in that head of yours to fear losing if she bites it off again.”

Mor barked a laugh, pointing childishly at him from the dining room. Elain had disappeared into the kitchen, no doubt to help Nuala bring out our supper. Cassian growled and lumbered away after them, toward the dinner table, grumbling about how I always take her side. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but the fact that he hadn’t had a pithy comeback was a little concerning.

Creatures of habit, we all drifted towards our typical seats at the table. Rhys avoided sitting at the head, preferring to take the first of the three seats in the center, along the side of the table closest to the foyer door. Feyre sat to his right, and the open seat beside her would be for Elain. Opposite them were three more place settings.

Cassian had already plopped into the middle seat, of course, ever the comfortable buffer between us, and Morrigan took her place to his right. I sat to his left, and no sooner had I seated myself than Elain and Nuala began bringing out plates of food and a basket of wonderful-smelling dinner rolls. Elain had become quite the baker in her time here, hours upon hours spent in the kitchen when she wasn’t out in the gardens. I had thanked Nuala and Cerridwen for showing her that kindness, though they had insisted no thanks were necessary. 

They served our plates, already portioned and arranged, and Elain took her seat while Nuala disappeared back through the kitchen doors. The food looked and smelled amazing, and my stomach rumbled at the mouth watering aromas.

Turning to Feyre, Rhys asked, “How are things going with the classes and the studio?” Her face lit up the way it only does when she talks about painting, and she launched into an explanation about some new class scheduling they were trying and how they needed more instructors to meet the demand for lessons.

My whole body was so tense that I was barely able to eat, and I wasn’t listening closely enough to follow much of the conversation volleying across the table. I had every reason to believe that Mor and I were not, in fact, mates. After five hundred years, if we had truly been mates, I believed it would have snapped into place by now. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t seem to want me. And yet that damned tugging was present tonight, driving me mad, pulling me in her direction, and it was all I could do to keep from leaning towards Cassian where he sat between us. Wouldn’t _that_ be fantastic for him to notice. I’m sure he’d blurt out some smartass comment and draw attention.

The most widely-accepted theory about mating bonds was that they form between individuals who, if united, would produce powerful offspring. Mates like Rhys’s parents and many others lent some credence to this, as they were ill-matched romantically but had produced the most powerful High Lord ever born. A High Lord whose power had turned out to be just barely enough to save the world. It was also noteworthy that it had been a pairing between a High Fae and an Illyrian. 

Cassian and I were the most powerful Illyrians alive, besides Rhys, needing an unprecedented seven siphons each to focus and control our power. And Morrigan… well, she had been so powerful at seventeen that she showed the signs of being a High Lord’s heir. So powerful that Keir had fallen all over himself to sell her to the highest bidder. Fucking asshole. She was objectively the most powerful female alive besides Feyre. And Amren, I supposed, though she is her own unique case.

It made a twisted kind of sense that either Cassian or I could be her mate. And from the moment she first strutted into Windhaven camp to visit, we had both been drawn to her like moths to a golden flame. She had consumed my thoughts and, occasionally, my dreams, though _those_ dreams had been blurry and indistinct, as normal dreams generally are.

It was also widely believed that mating bonds were incredibly rare, yet recent events had made me wonder if that were true. It honestly defied probability that two sisters had both discovered mating bonds, even if Elain did not currently acknowledge hers. Rhys and Feyre had been born more than five centuries apart, and it was at least three centuries for Lucien and Elain. 

Which begs the question: are mating bonds something preordained from birth, or do they arise when twin souls find each other? If those souls are close enough in proximity, can they feel something even before the bond fully forms, like Rhys? Do they have to truly _see_ the other person in order for it to snap into place, like Feyre? Viviane and Kallias’s bond hadn’t snapped into place until they had actually consummated their marriage, despite being friends since childhood. And wasn’t _that_ an unnerving possibility. But Viviane had realized her deep love for Kallias while he was trapped with Rhys Under the Mountain, and she had married and bedded Kallias the very night he had returned. 

Could it even be possible that everyone in the world could have a mate, if they just lived long enough, traveled broadly enough, and _found them_?

Because the theory that mating bonds were for power alone really started to fall apart when applied to Rhys and Feyre. Yes, she was incredibly powerful _now ,_ gifted with the elements and specialties of all seven courts, but when Rhys had first felt something of the bond she had been a mortal human girl across the Wall. Does that mean that their bond was not originally meant to produce powerful offspring, or did it mean that whatever created the bonds was somehow able to account for future events? Could the Cauldron or the Mother have known Feyre would become gifted and immortal? That Rhys would need to be born in order to save the world?

A thought struck me, so obvious I was pissed at myself for not wondering about it before. _How_ had Rhys sensed the bond when Feyre was just a mortal girl on the other side of the Wall? He had told all of us the truth after he had confessed everything to Feyre and she had accepted the bond; that he had sensed her when he was Under the Mountain, and that it had gotten stronger when she had come to Prythian, the bond finally snapping into place after she was transformed into High Fae. But somehow I had never thought to question the particulars of how he had sensed her, or what that fledgling bond had felt like. It seemed too personal to pry into, but... Had it been like this thing in my chest that felt like it pulled me? Had he dreamed of her as clearly as I had seen Mor? Through the eyes of some human lover, perhaps, or through her sisters? Or even her prey as she hunted? 

I resolved to ask Rhys about it soon. Maybe this evening after we discussed the Illyrians. I also knew Cassian now suspected that Nesta was his mate. I saw how intently they often stared into each other's eyes before the war had ended, almost like they were willing it to snap into place. Not that Nesta had even spoken to him since then. I wondered if Cassian felt something like the tug in my chest - the maddening magnetism; if that was what drove him to fly to her dingy street and keep watch on the rooftops just to be able to see her. 

Feyre had noted that their scent hadn’t changed to indicate a bond, though she had been speaking to Rhys at the time and I assumed she hadn’t intended for me to overhear. I was curious to know if Cassian felt something like I did, but I knew better than to bring up Nesta to him. He bit anyone’s head off who so much as mentioned her.

“Azriel?”

I snapped out of my musings to realize they were all staring at me expectantly. What had they been talking about? Even my shadows were silent, and it wasn’t often that I was so preoccupied that I wasn’t being vigilant. 

“What?” I felt my face heating and grimaced. I looked from face to face, confused, and Mor threw up her hands.

“Not you too, Az,” she groaned. “Cassian has been moping around all night and now you’re both doing it!” She looked to Feyre and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. Feyre gave me a small, sympathetic smile and masterfully redirected the conversation, and I realized just how long my mind had wandered as I noticed their plates were all but empty. Mine was still nearly untouched, but at least that meant this dinner would be over soon.

As though he had read my thoughts, Rhys rose from the table. “If you’ll all excuse me, I need to speak with Azriel. Do try not to drink all the best liquor while I’m gone.” He shot Feyre and Cassian a pointed look, no doubt remembering the debacle at the cabin with the holiday decorations. Feyre laughed sheepishly, but Cassian didn’t react. Rhys’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, but he didn’t say anything.

Cocking his head for me to follow, Rhys headed back through the foyer and toward the stairs. He didn’t ask me about my distraction at dinner, blessedly, and we made the quick trek up to the study in comfortable silence. Once in the room, Rhys took up a relaxed position in one of the wooden chairs, their backs specially-carved to accommodate wings, and I took a seat across from him.

“Did you visit Windhaven today?” He asked, straight to the point.

“I did, and Devlon was his usual charming self. The girls, as he likes to call them, have been getting their training more consistently, but they’re still doing their best not to follow the spirit of their orders.”

Rhys nodded, unsurprised, and I continued. “The unrest we’ve been worried about is still present, but does not seem to have grown in the past few weeks, so there’s that. Same story at the other two camps. I did inspections so they won’t grow too complacent.”

“I’m sure Cassian appreciates the help. Rehashing the same arguments with those stubborn lords takes a lot out of him.” I nodded. I knew what it cost Cassian to keep having the same fight with the misogynistic lords, constantly being reminded of his poor mother, and all the other females who had suffered. 

Rhys continued to ask questions, and I answered as many of them as I could. Eventually, though, he changed the subject to something much more troubling.

“Have you gotten any news out of the Hewn City, yet?” He asked it casually, almost an afterthought, though I knew the lack of communication recently was annoying him. It was annoying us both.

“Not yet. If my spies continue to fail, I will go myself.”

“There’s no need for that yet. I gave Keir control of the Court of Nightmares and the palace atop the mountain. I’m sure he’s just trying to make a point about who is in charge there, as usual.” He still had those lines at the corners of his mouth that belied his worry, but I let the subject drop. I knew what needed to be done.

I hesitated, trying to form the question I wanted to ask, but Rhys’s gaze unfocused and I recognized the look that meant Feyre was speaking into his mind. “Is that all you have to report tonight, Az?” He asked, still looking distracted. A sneaky smile was tugging at the corners of his lips, though I’m sure he didn’t realize it.

“Yes, sir.” I snapped my fist to my chest and Rhys chuckled at me. I had given him an official report, so it was appropriate to show him the deference due to his station. Ever informal, I knew it just amused him. He shook his head fondly.

”Goodnight then.” He rose and reached to clasp my forearm, giving me one of his disarming smiles, and then swept out of the study, no doubt off to find the High Lady and manage as much debauchery as they could before dawn.

The thought made me smile. Rhys had done more than enough, sacrificed too much, and he deserved his happiness. So did sweet, loyal Feyre. I was glad for them, even as my heart twisted slightly with a pang of jealousy.

I left the study and retraced the path back down the stairs, intending to cross to the front door and out. But instead, my feet led me back through the foyer and into the sitting room, to find Cassian sitting stiffly in an armchair near the large fireplace, alone, a harder drink in hand and a crystal decanter on the small table beside him. I pulled up short, surprised that Mor wasn’t in the room, though I hadn’t consciously been trying to find her. 

Cassian raised baleful eyes to me and I hesitated, but I carefully took the seat next to him and simply shared the space. He has never been one to open up much. Very rarely, though, he _had_ opened up to me. I knew the best thing was to wait and see if he spoke on his own without being prompted. We sat quietly for a while, the sound of the crackling logs in the hearth the only sound in the room, the silence comfortable but heavy. Eventually, Cassian spoke.

“Nesta sent word to me and asked to come see me, here, tomorrow.” He swallowed, but didn’t continue.

“That’s… a good thing, right?” I wasn’t stupid, Cassian’s behavior clearly said otherwise, but I didn’t understand why he was so morose. Nesta had been avoiding him for months; she had even ignored him at winter solstice. He had followed her out into the night with a parcel in hand, and returned in a foul mood a short time later without it. I hadn’t asked. The idiot shouldn’t have gifted Morrigan fucking _lingerie_ if he expected better results with Nesta.

He sighed heavily. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” He took another long drink from his cut crystal glass. After another pause, he continued, “I can’t shake a really, really bad feeling. The past few weeks she has been following a different routine -- going to different places. Stop looking at me like that.”

I was pretty sure not a single muscle in my face had shifted, but he apparently picked up on my disapproval of how he followed Nesta. I went out of my way to make sure Morrigan and Elain - and by extension, Lucien - had their privacy, whereas he just flew over to the dilapidated part of the city and stalked her.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking. Mother damn me, Az, it’s like there’s a bond there, but there isn’t. I swear I feel something, but…”

“But you don’t think Nesta feels it?”

He bowed his head, the shoulder-length dark locks swinging to obscure most of his rugged face. “I don’t know. The way she used to look at me, _really_ look at me… And at the battle, when we faced Hybern, and she…” He swallowed thickly. I knew what had happened in that battle, when Nesta had covered his body with hers and chosen to die with him. “I thought she must feel it, too.”

This was the most Cassian had spoken of Nesta in all the time we had known her. And while I may not like her one bit, she was my High Lady’s sister and she had helped us in the war effort. Cassian, for whatever reason, was deeply in love with her. And, to my eternal surprise, the feeling he described sounded almost exactly like the thing in my chest I had no name for. I may not like Nesta, but empathy for Cassian swelled up within me. 

He had lapsed back into silence, staring into the fire, and I considered my options. I was desperately curious to ask him more about that feeling, the bond-that-wasn’t, and this might very well be my only chance. It felt wrong, though, to exploit this opportunity to satisfy my own curiosity; vulnerable Cassian was not a side that showed itself very often. Not to mention I wasn’t sure how to phrase my questions without giving too many of my own secrets away. I was debating with myself when he spoke again, without looking at me.

“I don’t always feel it when she is around. It… _fades_... somehow. Sometimes. Other times it feels like it’s an actual fist anchored right in the center of my chest. And sometimes I feel it when she isn’t near.”

Well, it seemed I didn’t need to agonize over my questions. Cassian was being unusually forthcoming tonight, and I could probably thank whichever of Rhysand’s fine vintages currently sat beside him. I had learned long ago that silence was an incredibly useful interrogation tactic. His words, however, were shaking me to my core. What he was describing was eerily familiar, yet not exactly the same, as my own experience.

I formed my question carefully. “Does that fist ever feel like it’s pulling you?” 

“No. But I try to pull on _it_ sometimes.” And that was that.

I had tried tugging on that thing inside a few times, hundreds of years ago. But when Mor had had no reaction, I'd stopped. I wondered now if that had been wise. I sat with him for over an hour, just showing solidarity, but he didn’t speak again. He had barely moved, still staring into the fire, when I finally arose from the chair to leave. I clasped his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, but he didn’t react. So I headed out the door to the street and leaped into the air, making the flight back up to my balcony lost in thought, muscle memory carrying me through the still, springtime night.

I stripped my armor off on the way to my bed and tossed the pieces in the general direction of the wicker hamper at the side of the room. Someone had relit the fire for me, and I was grateful there was some warmth in the room. I was too wrapped up in my thoughts and I would have likely just gone to sleep without bothering. 

I slid between the sheets, shivering against the coolness of them on my bare skin, and waited for my body heat to warm them as I replayed my conversation with Cassian. At some point I slipped seamlessly into sleep, and into the awaiting dreams. But tonight-

Tonight my dreams of Morrigan were interrupted by equally clear dreams of a battle I was sure I had not fought. Seraphim and Illyrians were in the skies, the scream of battle rose from below, nauseating, and there were humans on the ground fighting and dying in droves. I raised a smooth, un-scarred hand before me to shield against a wave of arrows launching up from below. 

But both my shield and my siphons were red.


	3. Cassian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nesta and Cassian finally have the conversation that is long overdue.

I couldn't stop myself from pacing. I had tried sitting down twice since everyone else had left the town house, but it was no use. I needed to be _moving_. When I had gotten her tersely-written note yesterday I’d immediately felt like a heavy stone had dropped into my stomach and it hadn’t lessened a fraction since then. 

_I need to talk to you. I will be at the town house tomorrow morning._ There had been no signature, but we both knew I would recognize her elegant script.

It was too much to hope that she was planning to apologize; that she would finally be honest with me - with herself - about her feelings. I cursed myself for a Cauldron-blinded fool for every day that we had circled one another like wary cats, wasting time. Because somehow I had lost her in that forest on the edge of the battlefield. I didn’t know whether I had lost her when her father died, when I failed to protect them, or when she beheaded the king of Hybern with Azriel’s dagger, but I _had_ lost her. And I feared she might never forgive me.

The liquor was supposed to have helped with that stone in my gut last night, but it had failed miserably. Az’s presence had been a small comfort, but not long after he left I had stumbled over to the couch, stretched out, and had fallen asleep sometime later. I hadn’t wanted to dream, but the liquor had failed me in that regard, too. Sleeping on a couch when one had wings was already among the least comfortable of choices, but you learned to make do. The town house was running short on empty bedrooms, and flying back up the mountain had been out of the question.

I had slept even more fitfully than the couch and wings could account for, however, dreaming of war and death and screaming until the pale light of dawn had peeked in through the sitting room window. I’d jolted awake, expecting someone to be in the room with me, but I had been alone. I doubted the bloody dreams were a good omen for the day I was anticipating.

I’d bustled everyone out of the town house as soon as breakfast was finished, though I hadn’t eaten, with strict instructions not to return until this evening. Mor had yelped in indignation as I had physically pushed her out the door, though I had tried to be gentle. She was the last one out of the house and had quite literally dragged her feet, as though she hoped to linger until Nesta arrived. Purely by accident, of course. I had no idea what to expect with Nesta, but it was better to prepare a clear battleground just in case.

I had been pacing ever since, as the minutes ticked slowly past, and I had begun to wonder what exactly ‘morning’ meant to her when I finally heard the front door open and shut. I froze. That stone in my stomach felt like it dropped impossibly lower, and I felt it twist. The fist in my chest wasn’t present at the moment, so that was a small mercy. Troubling in its own right, but it was one less disadvantage.

I heard her footsteps crossing the foyer and I still hadn’t moved, and should’ve probably tried to meet her in the antechamber. And so it was that Nesta found me standing, like an idiot, in the middle of the sitting room.

Framed in the doorway, she stood imperiously straight-backed in an understated, fitted black dress. It wasn’t a remarkable gown; like all the dresses she owned it was elegantly tailored, but it was unornamented. The material, cut, and craftsmanship spoke for themselves, and the simple elegance drew attention to her face.

Eyes that blazed with cold intelligence sat in an angular face with high cheekbones and a straight nose. Her plump lips looked to have been tinted, just slightly, which was an oddity. Her honey-brown hair was braided and coiled behind her head in her usual style, and the light from the window illuminated the gilded threads that mingled with the brown. 

That face haunted me. And, as usual, it gave absolutely nothing away. Nesta was mystery, wrapped in questions, wrapped in secrets. My curiosity about the silver fire that sometimes burned in her eyes was partly what had drawn me to her, but it was absent now, her coolest mask firmly in place.

We stood for a long, tense moment, staring at each other. The space between us went taut, and it felt almost like a silent language, except that I had no idea what she was thinking. She finally moved into the room and settled gracefully into an armchair, motioning for me to sit on the center couch. 

The fireplace was cold, no fire necessary during the day at this time of year, but I could have sworn I felt the temperature in the room drop. For an irrational moment I considered relighting the fresh logs that someone had already replaced, but I thought better of it. I perched on the edge of the couch, tight as a bowstring.

She pinned me with that unyielding stare of hers, and I knew all my worries - not just from this past day, but every moment of worry since the war ended - had likely been for a very, very good reason.

“You’ve noticed that I’ve been going to different places. That my routine has changed.” It wasn’t a question, and I blinked. _Okay, way to cut right to the chase, Nesta._ I knew she was aware that I followed her sometimes, but I didn’t know how she actually felt about it. Not very happy, was my best guess. It was a surprise, then, for her to bring it up so baldly now.

I feared where she was going with this, so I just nodded once, dipping my chin. She had been drinking, gambling, and fucking her way across the seedier part of the city for months now. I hated it, hated watching her self-destruct while she refused my help, hated the males she stumbled home with when she knew I was watching. Hated that I had not been her first lover. Hated that I still couldn’t stay away.

But she had changed her routine a few weeks ago. She had made a number of trips to one of the banking establishments, which made absolutely no sense considering that Rhys and Feyre were paying her rent and living expenses. She had been spending a lot of time at the Library of Velaris, for another thing, having been given permission by the priestesses who called it home. 

She had always liked to read, before, but the amount of time she spent at the library was out of character for the new Nesta who had come home from war. She had to have overcome the memory of being attacked there, and the memory of rushing toward me as I had come to save her. I had hoped it was a good sign; that she was starting to return to herself and to one of the pastimes that had brought her joy.

“I’m leaving, Cassian.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re leaving?” She visibly bristled. _Nice, Cassian. Real fucking subtle._ But of all the scenarios I had imagined, this wasn’t one of them.

“You’ve been trailing me,” she said, venomously sweet. “Haven’t you put it all together yet?”

I racked my brain and I know she saw the realization settle into my face.

“The trips to the docks?”

She nodded. She appeared to want to add more but she paused, swallowed, and tried again.

“I have reserved passage on a ship. This is a favorable time of year to travel by sea. The owner of the apartment knows and everything is packed.”

“It costs money to travel, doesn’t it? Last I heard, you only showed up at the solstice party because Feyre threatened not to pay your rent.”

The kill shot landed and she actually _snarled_ at me. “For your information, I inherited my father’s estate.”

I blinked. Of course she would have.

“It has taken months to establish inheritance and ownership, and to liquidate assets into spendable funds. I am the eldest, but I offered to split everything three ways and Feyre and Elain both refused. Rhys had no objection to being repaid for the months of rent, however, and there is an account set up in Elain’s name here in Velaris that Feyre is aware of, in case Elain should ever have need of the money.”

She leaned back in her seat, the venom giving way to an almost wistful look. “The remaining fortune is mine, and I have chosen to travel the world with it. To see distant lands and meet interesting people. To _live._ ”

 _I would go anywhere with you._ But I didn’t speak the words. 

My next question was not the logical, obvious question. It was pure stupidity. “What were you doing in the library?” I immediately regretted the words, but Nesta surprised me. Her face softened, about as much as it ever did, and she considered me a moment before answering.

“I have been trying to research mating bonds.”

Well, that… that had not been what I expected, either. This day was going to shit.

“How do you research _mating bonds?_ Is there a book on it?” Shit, there might actually be a book on it. Was there?

She gave me a look that told me I was exactly as stupid as I felt, but she settled back in the chair slightly, crossing her legs, and I was surprised to realize she was actually going to give me an explanation. I had rarely seen her relax her posture so much, though it was obvious from the tension in her shoulders that some of that apparent comfort was an act. But she was settling in to give me at least some type of explanation, _finally_.

“No, there isn’t a ‘book on it’. Though now that you mention it, perhaps there should be.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, “But there are many books in the library that reference mating bonds. Some are musings within larger works, others are from personal accounts or biographies. It is possible to stitch the fragments together if one has a mind for it.” The look she gave me told me clearly what she thought of _my_ mind.

“There’s nothing straightforward about any of it, to say the least, but suffice it to say that I have my own theories.” She said the next part slowly, and every word echoed like nails in my own coffin. “We are not mates, Cassian.”

And I really had no response to that. I felt nothing in my chest at that moment, nothing I could tug on. And even if she wasn’t my mate, I was in love with her. Truly, deeply in love with her. And I had thought she felt the same.

“I didn’t figure you for one who would want to leave things up to fate or predetermination,” I managed, though my voice sounded rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. “You are Nesta Archeron. You make your own fate.”

She looked momentarily as stunned as I felt, but she composed herself again quickly, face locking down in that way I was all too familiar with. 

“I am only twenty five years old, _Cassian_ ,” she hissed, and her emphasis on my name, with no surname to attach to it, was clearly intended as a jab at my bastard-born status. One she had used before. And a jab like that would’ve usually landed, but I had bigger things to focus on.

She continued, “I don’t know exactly who you were when you were twenty five, but seeing that you still haven’t settled down at over five hundred, perhaps you can understand why I wouldn’t quite be prepared to do so, either.”

Burn me to ashes, but she had a point. She had a really fucking good point, and I was too much of a bastard to let it go so easily.

“I am not enough for you.” My voice was flat, as the words I had always suspected, deep down, were finally voiced aloud. “Do you look at Elain and Lucien and long so strongly for a mate who is a stranger to you?”

She visibly flinched, but that was her only reaction. “No,” she said slowly, voice low and deadly. “And do not speak to me about Elain ever again.”

I met her eyes, unwilling to back down before this glorious, frigid female whose eyes could promise both death and home. She met my hazel gaze with her steely blue-gray, and the moment dragged a bit too long to be comfortable.

“I look at Feyre and Rhysand,” she finally admitted, biting out the words and it was my turn to flinch. Her tone softened, though, as she went on. “He’s a cocky prick, but I see them together and… I want that, Cassian. I want that connection and devotion. Don’t you?” Her gaze turned earnest, and I could swear I saw more deeply into her eyes in that moment than I ever had before.

“Do you want me to fight for you? Do you want me to beg?” My voice broke, damn me. And I _would_ beg, I realized. Because whatever she said, I wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t made for me. And I _did_ want what Rhys and Feyre had. I wanted that fist that I sometimes felt to solidify into a bond that bridged souls. _Our_ souls.

I didn’t want to trap her, Gods she was right about her age, and it had been something Rhys had agonized over with Feyre, fearing that he was trapping her into something unbreakable at the very beginning of her long, immortal life. But could I be as strong as he had once determined to be, could I resolve to let her go, when even Rhys had buckled beneath the strain of denying his heart?

“I want you to let me go, Cassian,” she said, as if reading my mind. “I want you to accept that this is my choice, and that I _do not_ expect you to await my return. I want to try to find my mate, and he could be mortal or Fae or Illyrian or Seraphim or anything in between. He could be hundreds of years old or he might not have been born yet. But I intend to see the world, either way.”

“I just want you,” I whispered. And those walls of hers slammed back into place, shutting me out completely.

She stood, turning toward the door to the foyer. “My ship sails the day after tomorrow. I will be returning here this evening to say farewell to my sisters. I do not wish to see you again before I leave.” The implication was clear, and her tone did not invite discussion or objection. So I didn’t bother with either. As she turned, her black skirts swirled around her, making me think, for some reason, of twisting shadows. I rose woodenly, mind completely blank, and followed behind her.

As I walked her to the door, still too stunned to speak, I suddenly felt that fist in my chest return. It did not fade into existence as it sometimes did, it simply appeared, solid and whole. Before I had time to think about what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed Nesta’s arm, spinning her around to face me. 

For just the barest instant, she looked absolutely devastated. But before my next heartbeat could thud against my ribs her cold mask was back in place, and angry fire lit those otherworldly eyes.

“Let go of me,” she said, her tone promising violence.

I yanked somehow - I couldn’t explain the way I tugged on that formless thing inside me - but I gripped that fist in my chest and I yanked as hard as I could.

“Did you feel that?” I hated that my voice had come out sounding almost pleading.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snapped. Then she ripped her arm out of my grasp, whirled to the door, and practically tore it open, disappearing down the front walk and into the bustling street faster than I’d have thought possible.

She had worn black today, I realized, because she had known she would kill my future.

She brushed past a surprised Azriel on her way down the path, and he looked slightly afraid as he turned to watch her leave. Fuck me, he hadn’t been here this morning when I’d chased everyone out, and I had absolutely no desire to talk to him or anyone else right now. I was rooted to the spot, though, stuck standing there in the antechamber, a few steps from the open door, like the marble floor had swallowed my feet.

Azriel took the couple of steps up to the door without breaking his stride and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment, taking in the complete silence of the town house, and looked puzzled.

“Where is... everyone?” He asked in that voice of his that sounded like darkness.

I knew he had been about to ask whether Mor was here, but had caught himself. I really didn’t care though. I pushed past him, flinging the door back open, and practically ran to the end of the path, my stride long and quick. 

“Cassian?” I heard Azriel call behind me, concern in his voice, but I had no words. Nothing but formless thoughts roaring in circles in my skull. I launched myself skyward with a mighty flap, aiming northeast.

I flew for the remainder of the day. The air had grown colder and colder as the land sloped higher and I gained altitude. Once, this had been a rare trek for me to make, having only done it a handful of times over the years when I needed to think. But now I found myself making it for the second time in a matter of months, without provisions.

I tried to lose myself in the rhythm of flight, the flapping of my wings and the hypnotic view of land sliding by beneath me, but my thoughts only quieted when I had exhausted my body and continued to press on. They were either whirling through my mind, screaming over each other, or my head was as silent as the grave. I didn’t know which was worse.

I visited what remained of my mother’s village first, the snow on the ground thinner than the last time I had come here before the solstice. I did not find comfort here, though, in this field of death that I had made long ago. Nor did I feel satisfaction, as I often had. Today, these memories were feeding the agony. I quickly moved on, leaping back into the sky to continue on toward Ramiel, the sacred mountain in the Illyrian range. As I had done before, once I reached Ramiel I would find a nearby peak to perch on and _think_. 

Mile after mile, as I flew, the unnamed thing in my chest had gradually, blessedly faded. I was pushing my body hard, and my wings were aching, but I needed that exhaustion to keep the thoughts at bay, for now. And what I would do next, after Ramiel, or for the rest of my damned life, I had absolutely no idea.


	4. The Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His spies have failed, and Azriel needs to infiltrate the Hewn City.

Cassian had been gone for five days and in that time, despite increased efforts, my spies had still not managed to bring me one single word from the Court of Nightmares. The only interesting tidbit I’d gleaned was the fact that Eris had not been seen in the Autumn court in quite some time. Rumors varied on the duration of his absence, but the consensus was the same: he was not currently in residence.

Rhys pretended nonchalance when he asked me about the Hewn City in _every_ meeting we had, and he had seemed especially troubled by the news of Eris. I knew we were both wondering the same thing. Keir had the resources and temperament to present a problem for us if he decided to, and Eris wanted to inherit his father’s title sooner rather than later. The fact of his still-living father notwithstanding.

The complete absence of information combined with the disappearance of the Autumn Court’s heir was deeply unsettling. I needed to speak to Cassian about this, but he was off hiding somewhere. _That’s not fair_ , I mentally chided myself. My frustration distracted me from what I suspected Cassian was currently trying to process. It hadn’t taken a huge leap of logic to imagine what might have occurred that morning with Nesta, and my heart ached for my friend. 

I had winnowed to the street outside the town house that day to see if Elain wanted to chat in the garden, and hopefully speak to Cassian to discuss whether he had any information. I already knew Mor had nothing, and I would never have asked her anyway, but Cassian hated Keir and that court as much as I did and I could’ve used his help with this.

Just like the night before, however, as soon as I had appeared outside the house, that thing inside me had materialized and then violently _yanked_ , harder than I had ever felt before. I had physically stumbled forward, the first step toward the house involuntary. My mind had started spooling up horrible ideas about what could cause that jerking feeling, but before I could spiral too much the front door had flown inward and Nesta had stormed out, heading straight for me.

Cassian had simply stood in the open doorway, his face an uncharacteristic mix of devastation, grief, and shock that I hadn’t seen him wear in a very long time. I don’t think I had seen that exact expression since the day I rescued Mor from the Autumn Court. Nesta had brushed past me without a glance, and Cassian had simply flown away without speaking to me. I had searched the house, surprised to find no one else present, and had been so preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed any changes to the feeling in my chest until I abruptly registered that it was gone. And it had not returned.

The news about Eris changed things, and now I would have to act without Cassian’s help. I needed to make a personal trip to the Court of Nightmares.

* * *

I folded the darkness around us to pass through the world, and we appeared in the sky high above the Hewn City and about two miles south. What I did wasn’t truly winnowing, but that’s what I still called it, for lack of a more accurate term.

My two spies - who were each clutching one of my scarred hands - materialized with me, and we dropped a short distance with a lurch as their weight dragged me down and they began to flap their wings. They were trained for this, and the moment they needed to orient themselves was expected. Even so, it was an uncomfortable feeling to be dragged down in midair. I had needed to train for that maneuver, too. 

I employed many spies, the majority of whom were not Illyrian, but we’d needed wings for tonight’s task. I had chosen Dox and Caspan, two of my best Shadows, who had the additional advantage of being very fast and very quiet, both in the air and on the ground. Dox, the elder, was on my left, and Caspan, with his youthful face and crooked nose, was on my right. They bore the same general traits that most Illyrians possessed, with dark hair and tan skin, and wore black leather armor similar to mine. They wore no siphons, their speed and immortal agility their best qualifications for what we would do tonight.

They didn’t speak as they released my hands, drifting a comfortable distance away, and held their positions awaiting my signal; no words were needed. Caspan shot me a grin that I did not return, but he didn’t expect me to.

I lingered one more moment, confirming that Truth-Teller was strapped firmly to my thigh and my Illyrian sword was secure across my back. I saw subtle movements in the dark to either side as my Shadows followed my lead, checking their weapons. Once they stilled I raised my fist to draw their attention, and thrust it forward with a flap of my wings. With that, we burst into motion, each of them moving further out to my sides, until they were just silhouettes in the night sky. 

We mostly glided; the altitude at which we had appeared and the distance to the mountain were carefully calculated to allow us to descend as quietly as possible. When it comes to stealth, even the smallest rustle of wings could give away our position. I was mindful of the trap Rhys had fallen into months ago while flying with Feyre, and this loose formation we held was intended to make it more difficult to take down all three of us.

As we neared the palace at the peak of the mountain atop the Hewn City, Dox and Caspan fell back, dropping lower, while I advanced toward the balconies. The residence was well-warded, but unless Keir had modified those wards, I should be able to get inside. There was no need to risk my Shadows until we knew whether those wards had changed. 

The wards themselves were invisible, but I knew exactly where the edges were, expanding out from the small palace like a bubble. I approached that demarcation slowly, reaching out to test it with my hand. I felt no resistance, so I advanced through the space where I knew the wards must be, half-expecting to encounter a new inner-layer to the defenses. But there was nothing. 

I retraced my flight until I was once again outside the wards and motioned for my Shadows to come to me. They grasped my hands again, and we passed through the magical shields without incident. I released them both once I was certain we were through, and they spread out, preparing to alight near different entrances.

Dox and I would each land on one of the large balconies, and Caspan would enter through what had briefly been Feyre’s bathing chamber. The tub itself jutted out from the mountain, allowing water to cascade freely into the open air below, and allowed easy access to those chambers to anyone who could pass through the outer wards. Very few individuals could.

We crept inside, quiet as ghosts, each of us knowing exactly where we should search. I wrapped my shadows around myself and made my way through the halls, carefully checking rooms and closets along the way, but there was no sign of anyone. Nor did it seem as though the residence had been inhabited in quite some time. The fireplaces were swept clean, and though there was no dust on any of the surfaces, there was a slightly stale emptiness to the air of the place. My shadows whispered to me that we were alone.

Caspan and Dox met me in the main hall near the thick, sturdy wooden door that led down into the mountain. They each gave a quick shake of their heads to indicate they had found nothing out of place either. I had hoped to find Keir himself in the master bedroom up here and ask him a few questions. I had _not_ hoped to venture any deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels within the mountain. My spies waited, silent and unmoving, as I considered. I had planned for this, but I’ve learned to heed my instincts in my long life, and so I paused to weigh the options one last time.

There was really nothing for it but to go on ahead. Rhys had always kept this door locked with both iron and magic, but I should again be able to pass through. Every ward in the residence had been secretly keyed to allow entry to Rhys’s inner circle, at the same time they were adjusted to allow Keir and his family to move into the space. Which they apparently had not done. 

I pressed my palm against one of the iron bands that criss-crossed the door and I sensed, rather than heard, the locks release. This warding was different from the one outside; this was woven into the very wood and metal of the door itself, and the stone immediately around it. It swung inward silently on well-oiled hinges, and I opted to leave it open behind us. It increased the chance we could be detected, but when you might need a quick escape, never lock an available exit. Devlon had drilled that into all of us a long, long time ago.

I motioned my spies to stay close to me and extended my shadows to wrap around them, cloaking all three of us. Even so, I guided them toward a mostly-unused servant’s tunnel that would hopefully take us down through the mountain unseen. We may be wrapped in shadow, but the tunnels were relatively narrow, with evenly spaced faelights, and if anyone came close enough to us we would be detected. I hadn’t told Rhys I was coming, so I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t end up needing to kill anyone.

We crept through the tunnels for a quarter-hour before we came upon the first blockage. The tunnel had not collapsed - the magic woven into the Hewn City would’ve prevented that - but it had been filled with small boulders, the same color as the mountain, that would’ve required magic to move. It was obvious that there would be no way to remove them without creating a lot of noise, and blasting them with my power was out of the question for the same reason. Instead, we detoured, retracing our steps back to an intersection and taking a different route.

We encountered fourteen blocked tunnels as we descended, and I mentally made note of each of them and tried to remember which places they all connected to. Obviously there was somewhere in the mountain that nobody was intended to be. And, naturally, that was where I wanted to go. Each of the blocked tunnels ran through multiple locations, though, so I had to determine what they had in common to narrow the possibilities. 

I was prepared to encounter a servant or two, even in these less-frequented tunnels and even in the middle of the night, but there wasn’t a soul around. It was eerie, and made my scalp prickle, but I hadn’t learned a damn thing yet that was actually useful, with the exception of the locations of each tunnel blockage. I would have to mark them on a schematic of the mountain later in my report to Rhys. We pressed on.

The multiple detours required us to pass dangerously close to both the kitchen and the servants’ quarters, but we never heard a sound. We were deep within the mountain now, nearing the lowest levels, and hadn’t heard or seen a single person. We had been delving deep into the Hewn City for almost an hour, by my best estimate. My suspicions slowly morphed into worry, and I wondered whether the Hewn City was still inhabited. Could there have been a disease? A massacre? A mass exodus?

Beneath this mountain was an entire city carved right into the rock, houses and pillars, walkways and spires, and even the underground palace. But everywhere we crept, we were met with silence. The mountain began to feel almost like a tomb.

We reached the end of a tunnel that opened into the dungeon and I decided to check for prisoners. There were no faelights here, but a torch flickered in each corner of the room, casting a dim, wavering light. _Well, if the torches haven’t burned out, then someone has to be alive in this gods-damned place._

And if anyone was alive down here, they might be able to give us information. The cells in this dungeon were solid stone, with iron-banded wooden doors that each contained a window covered by a sliding metal panel. There were only six cells, three on each side of a narrow walkway, the inhabitants of the Court of Nightmares preferring to deal with their problems… quickly.

The first two cells I checked were unlocked, empty, and surprisingly clean. The third, however, was locked. I slid the panel back to peer inside and blinked. This cell had a few small pieces of furniture crammed inside, and the prisoner had been given candles and a few books. It was almost cozy, for a chilled prison cell beneath a mountain.

He was in need of a haircut, his flame-bright hair shaggier than when I’d last seen him. He was unshaven and pale, and his clothes were rumpled. He looked up, surprised, and when he met my eyes recognition followed by shock slackened his face. His eyes flared wide, showing the whites all the way around. He shot to his feet, crossing the two steps to the door.

“No, no, NO!” He ranted, sounding half mad. He slammed his palms against the inner surface of the door. “Run! NOW!” And I may hate this prick with five hundred years of pent up, boiling rage, but the look on his face, and his voice…

I whirled just as I heard a wet thud and Dox grunted. An arrow sprouted from his left shoulder and he looked down at it, surprised. I met the prisoner’s eyes, slammed the sliding covering on the window shut, and an instant later we were running back the way we came. 

Heavy footfalls sounded behind us, but we were faster. More arrows snapped against the stone wall behind us as we made the tunnel entrance and I threw a shield up, the air seeming to turn blue and covering the entire tunnel opening. It raced along with us, a few feet from our heels, as we barreled back up the tunnel. There was shouting now, up ahead, and I reached over my shoulder to draw my sword without breaking my stride. 

We neared an intersection of tunnels and I punched my left fist forward; two more shields appeared to block the crossroads. As we raced past, I got my first good look at our assailants. Their faces were twisted in rage behind the shields, and some wore the typical gray and white armor that Night Court soldiers wore here to blend into the mountainside. The uniforms of the others, however, made my blood run cold. 

Hybern uniforms. _What in the Gods damned seven hells is_ Hybern _doing here?!_

I didn’t have time to consider, because as we rounded the corner we came face to face with another, smaller group of soldiers in mixed uniforms. I promptly beheaded the male closest to me with an easy sweep of my blade and I felt his blood spatter on my face, his head landing on the stone with a hollow _thunk._ I stepped closer to Dox to protect his injured side. He already had a throwing knife out in his good hand, and on his other side I could see that Caspan had palmed his pair of daggers as well. _So much for trying not to kill anyone tonight._

The other soldiers hesitated, surprised at the abrupt loss of their comrade, and we charged them. I punched my blade through the Hybern sigil on the chest of a blond male before he could bring his weapon up, looking him in the eyes, and then wrenched the blade free and swung it in a backhand arc to bite deeply into the side of another male, this one in Night Court armor. I knew these were Keir’s men, but it still made me feel faintly ill to kill a soldier dressed in the uniform of my own court.

Two more soldiers went down to Caspan’s blades, and Dox managed to throw his knife, lodging it into the eye of the last man. My Shadows, bless them, didn’t need a single command. They broke back into a run as soon as the final man fell and we continued our mad dash back toward the palace.

The tunnels had not been blocked to prevent access to a certain area of the Hewn City. We had been herded right into an ambush. I cursed myself for a fool; I had been so focused on trying to determine what they were protecting, I hadn’t considered the extremely obvious potential outcomes of following a path someone else had planned. We blew through intersection after intersection, my shielding trick as we crossed through those death traps miraculously keeping us safe, but the soldiers from further back must have joined the chase when those shields ran out.

We were completely fucked if we couldn’t make it back the way we came.

They hadn’t counted on how fast we could move, though. For all their planning, the further we ascended through the sloped, twisting tunnels, the fewer groups of soldiers we encountered. This hadn’t been planned or executed very well on Keir’s part, aside from the blockades in the tunnels. I couldn’t fathom why he would lead us right to his prisoner, why he had left the figurative doors wide open in the palace wards, or why we weren’t already very dead. The din of clinking, running, and shouting that was beginning to crescendo behind us, however, was a very real problem.

We ran directly into two more groups of soldiers, spinning through them with deadly efficiency and leaving the bodies in our wake, and then we were finally approaching our destination. My breaths were rasping in my ears and my legs burned. We had descended through the mountain for over an hour, and had made the dash back the way we had come in less than half the time.

Soldiers appeared around a corner in the hall far ahead, training arrows upon us, and I slammed another shield into place in front of us as we closed the last few feet of distance.

We skidded through the still-open door into the small palace atop the mountain and made for the balconies down the hall at a dead sprint. There were archers hiding in the rooms now, firing out at us from the darkness as we passed. I felt an arrowhead ping off my metal pauldron, and I snapped out with controlled bursts of my power, aiming where my shadows told me, dispatching as many as I could. Dox was the first through the final chamber, three strides ahead of me, and he burst onto the broad, open patio. 

He didn’t slow or look back as he neared the banister. He flapped hard, leaping into the air, his feet just clearing the railing. A practiced maneuver, executed perfectly. Caspan was a few steps to my right, keeping pace with me, and I wondered for a moment whether the older man had really outrun him or if Caspan was pacing me on purpose. I swung my arm up to sheathe my sword across my back as I cleared the last steps to the railing, surging my wings the same way Dox had, and launched myself into the dark, open sky. 

Any other time I might have dived beneath the rim of the balcony to evade the arrows I knew would fly behind us, but I climbed as quickly as I could instead, wings pumping, knowing there were hidden arrow-slits in the mountainside beneath. If they were manned, we had better odds in the open sky. We only had to get far enough away to be outside the wards, and then I could winnow us away. Dox had done the same calculations and was both ahead of and above me in the air.

In the same moment that I realized Caspan hadn’t leapt with me, I heard the twang and whizz of arrows being loosed from the balcony behind us, and I pivoted in midair. My siphons blazed bright in the dark sky as I shoved my raw power through them and formed a wide shield behind me blindly, sending it further back than I thought was necessary and praying Caspan was close enough to be on the right side of it. I felt the arrows slam into my shield, evaporating, but-

I hadn’t cast the shield back far enough, damn me. He was further back than I’d anticipated, and directly behind me. Two of the arrows caught him in the back, near his spine, and several had torn through his wings. He hadn’t made a sound. A new bubble of power suddenly appeared in the air around the palace, large and crackling with light, fading quickly, and I didn’t need to guess to know what that was.

Caspan plummeted gracelessly, his splayed wings causing him to spin wildly but slowing his fall just enough. I dove after him, arms outstretched, tucking my own wings tightly, praying to anyone who might listen that the soldiers hadn’t had time to man those arrow slits. I noticed with a flare of pride that Dox was diving beside me, alreading reaching his hand toward me. We gained on Caspan easily, and I grasped a fistful of his leather armor near his shoulder, snapped my hand out to grab hold of Dox, and folded my shadows around us once more.

I winnowed us directly onto Madja’s front porch and quickly grasped Caspan with both hands to keep the young Illyrian upright. The landing was rough; the transition from falling in midiar to standing on flat ground not being an easy one in the best of times, and Caspan groaned. Dox appeared to be in decent shape, though the arrow still protruded obscenely from his shoulder and the black armor of his arm glistened with blood. I felt a pang of guilt, but I’d had to hold too many shields at once to spare the attention it would’ve taken to patch his bleeding wound. His eyes were alert and he was steady on his feet as he used his good arm to pound unabashedly on the front door. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that I’d had to awaken Madja in the middle of the night.

The door opened much more quickly than I’d expected - though I supposed it was almost dawn at this point - and the dark-skinned healer smiled kindly at me, her wrinkles creasing. She took one glance at each of the males beside me and motioned for us to come in.

“Good morning, Azriel. You know where to put him,” she said, as calmly as ever. I half-carried Caspan over to one of the narrow cots she kept ready for patients and helped him lie down on his side. His breathing was labored, but there was still some color in his lips and cheeks, and he hadn’t lost consciousness, so those were good signs.

“Madja will be able to set you right,” I told him, squeezing his shoulder gently, and he forced out a pained smile. _That one will try to smile through anything._

“What happened, Caspan? You were right beside me.” I feared I already knew the answer before he spoke.

“There was nobody... at your back,” he managed, panting, his voice a rasping whisper.

Pride flared in my heart again, but also regret. Caspan was barely a century old and had his whole immortal life ahead of him. I gripped his shoulder a little tighter. “You’re a good soldier. Next time, let me take the arrows myself.” I softened the words with a small, rare smile, and he practically beamed. Good lad.

Dox was settling himself onto another cot to relax and wait, and he gave me a crisp salute with his good arm, fist over his heart, and a firm nod. Grateful, I returned the salute and clasped his forearm with a squeeze. I returned the nod and turned to the small, wizened female. She didn’t ask any questions, just pulled the door back open for me and stepped aside with a smile. Madja had been healing all of us for centuries; she could plainly see their injuries and didn’t need to know anything more. I only took three steps past the threshold of her home before I was vaulting into the sky, flying hard for the town house on tired, aching wings.

I had to tell Rhys that Gods-damned Eris Vanserra was currently imprisoned within the Court of Nightmares.


	5. The Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel debriefs with Rhys and Feyre and learns more about the mating bond. Cassian gets very, very drunk.

**Azriel**

Rhys was rubbing his temples the way I often do and staring down at the untouched breakfast tray Cerridwen had brought him. His mood had darkened visibly as I had explained what I had just done in the hours before dawn, and who exactly I had found in the dungeons of the Hewn City.

“Mother above, Azriel,” was all he said at first.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone so deep into the mountain without consulting you. I had planned-”

“Az,” Rhys groaned, cutting me off, and he looked up at me, his eyes wide and pained. “Don’t apologize. But you could have been killed, and we might never have known what had happened to you.” There was nothing but sincerity in his face as he continued, “I’m learning to let other people do their jobs but, damn it all, I need you to trust me to let you go. I just need to know what’s happening. Can you do that next time? Please?”

“Of course.” What else could I say to that? We had been trying to get Rhys to delegate ever since he had become High Lord. If anything, I was grateful. “Though I suppose that means I should tell you what my new plans are.”

“Ideally, yes. Though, if you’ll wait a moment, I’ve asked Feyre to join us and she’s just down the hall. I wanted to let her sleep this morning, but I have already passed along your report so far.” Indeed, my shadows had warned me that she was nearby. A few seconds later the door swung inward and Feyre stepped through, moving deftly to the side and shutting it smoothly behind her.

My High Lady crossed the room toward Rhys with a fluid economy of motion that belied her days as a huntress and her months of hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. He pushed his chair back from the desk but didn’t rise, smiling at her, and she took the invitation, perching in his lap and shooting me an impish but slightly apologetic smile. I gave her a small smile in return. “Good morning, Feyre.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow for me to begin and circled Feyre’s waist with his arm possessively. With the other hand, he finally started picking at his breakfast tray again, and popped a grape into his mouth, chewing. 

“Well, first of all, I need to find Cassian. Have you received word yet?”

“We learned late last night that he’d made an appearance at Windhaven and had stayed at Rhys’s mother’s house,” Feyre informed me. “He made quite a stir; our informant was a little unclear on the specifics but there was alcohol and at least one fist fight, that we know of. Apparently there were a lot of… let’s call them ‘rumors.’” She smiled a little wickedly at that. She always _had_ been one of us. “We were extremely lucky that one of our people spotted him at all; a few hours after they started trailing him he flew away with a small pack.”

Rhys chimed in now to add, “Based on the direction he appeared to be heading, I’ve sent scouts to two possible locations to wait and watch for his arrival. If my hunch is right, you’ll be the first to know his whereabouts.”

I nodded my thanks. “Once we find Cassian, I’m going to take him with me to the Day Court to speak to Helion.” They patiently listened to my plans, pointing out possible pitfalls, but in the end they were nodding. I was pleasantly surprised that they were agreeing so easily; I had no intention of taking either of them with me into the Court of Nightmares, and it was usually impossible to keep either of them out of the thick of things. It seemed that Rhys’s death and subsequent resurrection had resulted in a muting effect on both of them. It saddened me, but if it kept them safer then I would thank the Mother for it.

When everything was laid out and agreed to, I hesitated, looking to Feyre and then back to Rhys. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders before venturing, “May I ask you about something… personal?”

Rhys’s gaze sharpened to intense curiosity, the nosey prick. Feyre’s brow furrowed and she searched my face. “Would you like me to leave?” She asked gently, and I knew she would if I requested it.

“Actually, I was hoping I might speak to both of you. I wondered if I could ask you a few questions about your mating bond.” They both blinked in surprise, and for a moment they shared that expression that meant they were communicating silently, mind to mind. Then they smiled at me, having reached some decision, but it was Feyre who spoke again, saying, “Ask us anything, Az, and we will tell you what we can.”

They patiently answered my questions in as much detail as they could, as promised - enough detail that I was sure I turned beet red at least once - and then I excused myself to return to the House of Wind. It was nearing mid-morning and I had been awake for well over a full day now, though I’ve had worse, and I was ready to try to think, and to sleep. And to bathe, I noted, realizing for the first time that I had dried blood on my hands, face, and armor. Caspan’s blood, among others, though I pushed that out of my mind for the moment. Madja would patch him up.

I flew back up to the House of Wind, entering my suite through the balcony, as usual, and headed straight for the bathing chamber to draw a hot bath. My whole body had started aching at some point in Rhys’s study, and the large in-ground tub would allow me to submerge all the way up to my neck. The water filled quickly, steam curling from the surface, and for once I allowed my wings to droop, brushing against the floor. I shucked off my bloody armor and underclothes to sink gratefully into the hot water.

I scrubbed myself clean quickly so that I could relax and think without interruption until the water cooled or I was ready to climb out, whichever came first. I stretched my wings wide beneath the water’s surface, letting myself indulge in the feeling of that soothing heat sinking deliciously into sore, sensitive tissue, and leaned back, floating.

I stared at the ceiling, focusing on taking deep, measured breaths, and began trying to work through all the information Feyre and Rhys had just given me. I floated, effortlessly weightless, and contemplated everything they had said.

Rhys had never seen Feyre’s face until he met her in the Spring Court on the night of their bullshit Holy Rite. He had sensed her, even as a human, by seeing through her own eyes. He’d seen her hands painting small pictures around her family’s derelict house. He had seen glimpses of the forest during her hunts. He had seen through her eyes in his dreams, though those hadn’t been very clear until she had crossed the Wall.

The dreams he described sounded like my dreams of Morrigan and of the first War; so clear that they almost blended with memory if I hadn’t known better. The obvious conclusion I couldn’t help but draw, then, was that - that night, so many centuries ago - I had seen through Cassian’s eyes. I had witnessed the night he and Mor had deflowered one another and I had drawn the incredibly wrong conclusions. To everything.

She had kept him around religiously ever since to act as a buffer or a chaperone between us, and this defense of hers had muddled my sense of the bond, making me believe it had been her. I had always loved more than just her stunning beauty; I loved her fierce wildness and untamable spirit. I loved that she was a flower who had dropped from an ugly tree beneath a dark mountain and had bloomed, glorious, refusing to live any life but the one she had chosen. She was The Morrigan, and she was indomitable.

But I had also believed she was my soul-bonded mate and that _someday_ she would realize it. And every single one of those traits I thought I loved about her could also be attributed to Cassian. The mystery of the not-quite-a-bond I had felt for most of my life was finally unraveled, but I had to decide what I was going to do about it. I eventually rose from the water, dried myself off, and slid between my sheets.

I stayed there for two days, laying in my bed, processing my new reality. I allowed more and more small clues to click into place and I came to a few important conclusions. For one, it would be very easy to fall in love with Cassian. I had never thought of him that way, but I did find males attractive. He had been my closest friend for the entirety of my life. Or, at least, the parts that mattered. In so many ways, he was my equal. 

I imagined him now, summoning memories of training with him shirtless, or sitting in the birchin in nothing but our skins after our annual snowball fights. And I realized, for another thing, that Cassian was ruggedly beautiful. He had the face and body of a honed warrior. I’d never thought he was ugly, by any means, but the more I considered the prospect, the more I realized that, if he was willing to accept the bond, we might just be able to find the kind of happiness with one another that Rhys and Feyre shared.

I did my best to ignore the little problem that Nesta presented. Okay, big problem. I was still unclear about what, exactly, had transpired between the eldest Archeron sister and my presumptive mate, but there was precious little I could do about it. And the witch had boarded that boat and sailed away days ago. I would just have to span that chasm when I came to it.

On the third morning I finally dragged myself out of bed, made my customary freefall down toward the city, and found my way to one of my favorite restaurants to fill my aching belly. I hadn’t eaten since before the Hewn City and my appetite had roared back to life when I’d awoken. 

I ventured to Madja’s house to visit Caspan once I had eaten, feeling guilty for not coming to see the young male sooner. He was on the mend, as I knew he would be, and was sitting up on his cot having his own breakfast and looking cheerful. I was told that Dox had already been sent on his way, but both Madja and Caspan assured me he was fine.

On the morning of the fourth day, Rhys arrived in my suite, yanking back the curtains, and announced proudly that his hunches had paid off and he’d located Cassian. I washed and dressed as quickly as I could, leapt from my balcony without completing my morning ritual, wrapped the shadows around myself, and winnowed away.

* * *

**Cassian**

I watched the sun set over Ramiel, sitting on an icy peak nearby and freezing my wings off for hours, before I finally made the rest of the flight, exhausted, to Windhaven. I could have gone to my own house, but not only was it significantly farther away, but I had never spent any length of time there. I always found myself staying close to my friends, either in my rooms in the House of Wind or in the town house, when there was space. But the house in Windhaven, Rhys’s mother’s house… _that_ felt like home. 

The narrow two-story stone house sat near the edge of the camp, almost at the treeline, and I was able to arrive unnoticed and let myself inside. I could only hope that there were still some bottles of liquor stashed here, because the Mother knows nobody in this camp would deign to take my money. _Well,_ I amended to myself, _one person might._

Nesta’s particularly negative brand of coping skills was looking mighty appealing right about then. It might be hard to manage the gambling in a camp full of Illyrians who treated me like dirt, and I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to do the fucking, but the drinking and fighting should be easy enough to manage.

There was no particular place where we stored alcohol, so I raided the small home and turned up a dozen bottles from various nooks and crannies, a couple of which were still completely full. I gathered them on the kitchen table that dominated the front room of the lower level. We had always used this house as our base of operations when we needed to be in Windhaven, so the house was stocked with some of the other essentials. The cooling box contained some basic food items, there were clean towels in the cupboards, and there was enough split wood to feed the fire for a few nights.

I took my time building a fire, taking care to stack the logs in a way that would keep it burning as long as possible through the night without being tended. The air was colder here in the mountains than it had been in Velaris, and there was still an ankle-deep layer of snow on the ground. There was a part of me that wouldn’t mind freezing to death just to escape the bleak emptiness that was my future, but I was nothing if not pragmatic.

I would never admit it to anyone, but I had lain awake so many nights imagining what Nesta would look like in a wedding gown, walking toward me with that rare smile on her face that most people never saw, glowing from within. I had imagined how she would look if she were carrying my child. I had imagined a little boy with her honey brown-gold hair and a little girl with black locks and Illyrian wings who would never fear being clipped. Gods damn me, I had imagined a whole life with her. And now that vision of the future was gone, and I was grieving the things that would never come to pass.

I spent the rest of that first night in Windhaven getting drunk enough not to think anymore. I started with the bottle that had the least remaining alcohol and decided I would work my way up. I didn’t bother trying to navigate the stairs to go up to my old bedroom, and instead opted to sleep on the couch.

Two more days passed in a similar fashion, in a blur of mixed liquors, tasteless food I could barely be bothered to heat up, and unwelcome thoughts. I did venture out of the house at some point, and - though the memories were hazy - the next time I awoke my knuckles were raw.

On the fourth day, I awoke in the afternoon and realized I was both sober and out of booze, which was completely unacceptable as far as I was concerned. Ignoring my hunger, my hangover, and the rumpled clothes I had been wearing for days, I made my way to the craftsman center of the camp and straight for the clothier’s shop with the leaded-glass door. There was only one person in this camp who would do business with a bastard like me, and she didn’t sell alcohol.

The bell tinkled as I crossed the threshold and I had a brief feeling of deja vu. I was shaking off the memory as she emerged from the back room and surprise lit her eyes when she recognized me.

“Lord Cassian-” Emerie began, but then stopped, and took in my appearance with shrewd eyes. I could practically see her cataloguing every detail, and was a little embarrassed. I took advantage of her hesitation to correct her about my name this time.

“It’s just Cassian.” But then I was at a loss for words. I had forgotten how much she’d made me think of Nesta the last time I was here just a few weeks ago. The keen intelligence in her eyes, that rigid posture, those high cheekbones and-

“Are you alright?” She cut into my reverie again, looking concerned and not entirely happy to see me. “You… with respect, you look terrible.”

I chuckled, surprising myself a little, and tried to pull my shit together. I couldn’t just stand here and gawk at her, thinking about Nesta. “Well, it’s great to see you too, Emerie.” _Great job, idiot._

She moved toward the counter warily, and I checked my posture to make sure I looked as non-threatening as possible. I tucked my wings tightly to my back to avoid bumping into any of the racks or shelves, and I hoped my depth perception wasn’t too impeded by my hangover. I approached once she was behind the gleaming wood, letting her keep that barrier between us.

“I find myself in need of a few sets of clothes, as you may have already noticed. I also hoped you might have some means of buying alcohol in this Gods-forsaken camp.”

Her lips quirked up a little at that and she studied me again, thoughtful and professional, measuring me with her eyes. I couldn’t resist the urge to straighten my shoulders and stand up a little taller. I knew she was trying to determine if she had anything large enough. “I should have at least a few items that will fit you. Nothing fancy, mind, just some basics.”

“I would appreciate anything you have that might fit me. Especially shirts. I don’t care what any of it looks like.” Shirts were always especially difficult because the slits, flaps, and buttons I needed for my wings could only be found on garments purchased in Illyria. Where nobody would take my money. I could buy pants most anywhere on the continent, but the Fae tailor who specially made my shirts was back in Velaris.

I waited at the counter while she bustled around her small shop, grabbing a few items, until she returned to the counter satisfied. She laid the garments out for me to inspect. As promised, they were simple pants and shirts in natural colors, but the quality was excellent. I had expected nothing less.

“They look like they’re my size, but they’ll be my only changes of clothes for at least a few days. Is there somewhere I could try them on?” I smiled in what I hoped was a self-deprecating way. I was fairly certain everything was the right size and I didn’t want to offend her sense of professional pride. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to read anything more into it.

“You can step into the back room,” she said, motioning me toward the curtained doorway. “I get little enough business that I’ve never bothered to set up an area for customers. I’ll try to see what I can do about the alcohol.” Her tone told me she doubted the wisdom of helping me with that part of my request, but I nodded my thanks anyway.

She herded me through the curtains, pulling them closed behind me, and I found myself in a small room with a simple wooden desk and chair, a few crates that probably contained merchandise, and a small brazier. To my left were narrow wooden stairs that must lead up to the living space above.

It felt awkward to be back here in what was clearly her office, but it felt almost unbearably so once I started to undress. I was hyper-aware of the thin curtain that separated me from Emerie and the rest of the storefront. The bell at the door tinkled as I pulled down my well-worn pants and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I didn’t hear the telltale sounds of a new customer in the shop, so Emerie must have gone out. I was a little surprised she’d left me alone in what was effectively her home and the means for her livelihood. I cycled through the garments in record time, tugged my rumpled clothing back on, and emerged through the curtain with everything draped neatly over my arm.

Predictably, the room was empty. I laid the stack of garments on the polished countertop and leaned against it, letting my eyes wander. The colors of the garments all started blurring together and I tried to remember if I had eaten the previous night, or if that had been the night before. I was starving. My gaze fell upon a simple, elegant white dress hanging near the corner of the room, and my heart squeezed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away; it was so similar to the cut of Nesta’s gowns. That vision returned to torment me again; a smiling Nesta, hair braided around her head like a crown interwoven with flowers, and joy in her eyes.

I didn’t know how long I stared at that dress, but I was relieved when the bell chimed again to signal Emerie’s return and I was finally able to look away. I slid my gaze to the female who - blessedly - had a bottle of amber liquid in each hand and a third tucked under her arm. I straightened from where I’d been leaning against the counter and took a small step away to give her space. She rounded it gracefully, setting the bottles next to the clothes.

“I had some luck with one of my father’s old friends. He’s not a shopkeeper, so I wasn’t able to pick and choose, but he did agree to part with these,” she said, motioning to the bottles. If I had to guess from the color alone, they looked like they might be brandy.

“I’m not picky. Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. She pulled out a length of burlap and, folding the clothes deftly, made a little parcel of the items, tucking the bottles between the clothes to cushion them.

I fished a small pouch from my pocket and handed it to her, mindful of her prickly pride the last time, when I paid her for the winter clothing. I knew she could tell by the way it clinked that the coins inside were too heavy, and her eyes narrowed. I sighed. “Before you say it - it isn’t _charity._ You used a personal connection to fulfill a special order for me outside of your usual goods. It’s a tip.” I dug up a little of my characteristic arrogance and gave her a wink.

She still hesitated before eventually tucking the pouch under the counter with a little nod. “ Is there… can I do anything else to help you?” She looked earnest and concerned. _I must look even shittier than I thought._ She was so like Nesta - proud and fierce and a little bit thorny. Yet, like Nesta, those keen eyes could see so deeply, and the thorns were protecting a heart that could care _too_ much.

Nesta’s words came back to me yet again, and I found myself staring hard into Emerie’s eyes, wondering if I, too, should try to search the world for my mate. For a truly stupid moment, I considered asking Emerie if she wanted to drink a little of this brandy with me. I broke her gaze when she shuffled her wings, looking uncomfortable, and cursed myself again for a fool. I thanked her awkwardly, gathered the parcel off the counter, and left quickly without looking back.

I didn’t bother trying to feed myself when I returned to the house - the limited alcohol would be more effective on an empty stomach anyway, and mine was so tied up in knots I doubted I could keep down anything solid. I swept the hearth out quickly and restacked fresh logs, knowing I would soon be too drunk to do it properly and the sun would be setting in about an hour. I could light it later, but stacking it so it would burn all night required some measure of clarity.

That task completed, I unwrapped the burlap parcel to retrieve the first bottle of alcohol and resolved not to pass out until it was empty.

I was right, it was brandy.

I awoke suddenly sometime in the black hours of the early morning, still quite drunk, and sat bolt upright on the couch. The fire had burned down low, but there was enough light to quickly determine that I was alone. But I didn’t feel alone. There was _that thing_ again, in my chest, so faint it might have been my imagination. But if that was the case, my imagination had just roused me from a dreamless sleep. 

_I must be losing my fucking mind._ I squeezed my head in my hands before rising to stagger to the table, grabbing the other two bottles clumsily and, for once, made my unstable way up the stairs to my bedroom.

The rest of the house was chill, the fire from the front room not penetrating far, but I welcomed the cold air as I flopped on top of the covers of my old bed, a bottle in each hand. Being cold and being lonely had been forever linked in my mind when I was a child, and it seemed appropriate to shiver as the tears slid free once more. The sun was rising before the second glass bottle slid, empty, from my limp hand to clink against the first bottle already on the floor. It was the last thing I heard as oblivion finally swallowed me.

* * *

The next afternoon found me standing at the kitchen table folding the few outfits from Emerie into a small pack. I had more than overstayed my welcome in Windhaven, but I wasn’t ready to face Velaris and Nesta’s absence there. Not yet. I buckled the pack across my chest, settling the bundle against my spine between my wings where it would be out of the way. 

Closing the wooden door gently behind me, I left the house and headed toward the treeline. Halfway there I flapped hard and jumped into the sky, angling toward the mountain cabin where I might find both solitude and more liquor, if I was lucky. As I climbed higher in the air, I kept my focus on my peripheral vision and watched to see if anyone would attempt to follow. But none did.

It was roughly a four-hour flight from the Illyrian camp to the cabin, and that proved to be entirely too long to remain sober. I tried counting my wingbeats to keep the thoughts at bay, but my mind kept wandering back to Nesta, my heart twisting painfully each time. I arrived at the cabin as the sun was nearing the horizon, and went immediately to the wine cellar. I emerged feeling deeply, expansively grateful to Rhys for how well he kept this place stocked, and I set to drinking my way through the shelves.

Partway through the next day, between crying over Nesta and hating myself, I began to notice my messes were no longer tidying themselves. It seemed like a punishment, but also felt appropriate somehow.

I awoke in the cabin, on the morning of the fourth day, to a pounding racket at the wooden door that seemed to ignite a similar pounding inside my skull. The _thud, thud, thud_ repeated itself when I gave no answer, and I slowly forced myself upright off the couch, staggering stiffly to the door.

I pulled it open, blinded momentarily by the too-bright sunlight, and resolved to thoroughly murder whoever was on the other side.


	6. The Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel goes to the cabin to find Cassian and reveals the mating bond. Cassian isn't good with Big Feelings.

**Azriel**

The wooden door to the cabin swung open and there he was. His hazel eyes, so similar to mine, were bloodshot and red-rimmed, with dark smudges like fading bruises underneath. The light, loose linen shirt he wore looked new, but was rumpled and unlaced at the neck, untucked, and his dark pants hadn’t fared much better. It looked like he had just awoken when I knocked, and he had obviously slept in them. His black, shoulder-length hair was unkempt and unbound. He honestly looked like shit.

I scanned him, slowly, searching the handsome, rugged lines of his face, the bleak, almost vacant depths of his eyes, and I finally felt it. There was something like a clicking inside me, a tiny shift at the core of who I was. There was no sound, but it shivered through me like a thunderclap from my scalp down to my lower back. A dim awareness bloomed in me where that thread had always sat, and I felt an echo of deep, debilitating apathy.

 _My poor Cassian._

The bond snapping into place inside me felt extraordinary. Like becoming complete, or like coming home. The only home I had ever cared about was Rhys’s mother’s house at Windhaven, and I marveled at this feeling of belonging, beyond words. And he just stared at me, waiting. He gave no indication that he had felt what just happened. He finally sighed, misinterpreting my silence for stubbornness, and took a half-step back, allowing me to come inside.

I stepped into the familiar cabin and looked around, dismayed. I didn’t know exactly how long Cassian had been here, but I’d believed it had only been a few days. Yet the inside of the cabin looked like someone had been squatting here for a fortnight. Empty bottles cluttered almost all the available surfaces, and a few pairs of clothing and one set of flying leathers littered the floor, scattered around the main room, with a pair of pants slightly down the hall.

“Mother above, Cassian, is there even any alcohol left?” I tried for a lighthearted tone, but I could hear that it sounded a little off as the words left my mouth. I hadn’t known it was even possible to mess up the cabin this much. The magic of the place should have taken care of everything for him.

He mumbled something grumpy-sounding but incoherent and crossed back to the couch, sprawling out. The furniture was slightly disarrayed, everything shifted just a little off-kilter as though he had bumped into it or held onto it as he moved around. I wondered why he was sleeping on the couch when he had the whole cabin to himself.

“I’ll make you some breakfast, assuming there is any food left in the house,” I announced, and headed for the small kitchen. My heart thrilled a little at the idea of making food for him, but the act of eating it didn’t mean anything when he was unaware of the bond between us. This would just be a normal meal to hopefully sober him up, and maybe help get him talking. 

As I feared, there was very little food left in the house, but there was a pile of dishes that was somehow both on the counter and in the wash basin, combining into a precarious tower. I sighed. It would seem that the domestic magic of the cabin was fed up with Cassian wrecking the place. Before I could decide what to do first, I heard snoring start up on the couch behind me. _Well,_ I mused, _I guess there’s no rush on breakfast._

I removed the loops from my middle fingers that held my sleeves - and my siphons - in place, and folded them back onto my forearms. Deciding the best plan of attack that would _not_ cause the leaning tower of dishes to collapse, I selected one and began washing.

* * *

I’d managed to find a few eggs in the cellar that Cassian hadn’t yet devoured, along with some vegetables, so I prepared an omelette and brewed a pot of strong tea. I served up the meal on one of the freshly washed plates and set a place at the table. 

Cassian did not awaken easily. I was forcibly shaking his shoulders before his eyes opened and tried to focus on my face. “Rise and shine, I made food,” I said succinctly, and started to half-lift him into a sitting position. He groaned at the motion, but I continued until I had him upright on the couch. He glared at me and I offered a small, encouraging smile. I could dimly feel how much he was hurting and that sobered me, but his attempt at a fierce glare, in his current state, had been... well, adorable.

Grasping his forearm, I helped drag him to his feet and got him into the chair at the table, taking the place across from him. He eyed the omelette suspiciously and then looked to me, and I rolled my eyes. 

He shrugged, grabbing his fork, and took a cautious bite. He appeared pleasantly surprised as he chewed, and I sat with him in silence while he devoured everything in front of him. He grimaced at the tea, but we both knew it would help him, so he drained that, too. When he had finished his meal he groaned again, shooting me an appreciative look, and stood up to move a few steps to one of the armchairs. He slumped in it, looking tired, but I supposed it was better than flopping back on the couch to escape into oblivion.

I cautiously joined him, sinking into another chair, and considered my words. The last thing I wanted to do was to cause him any pain, but he was obviously not coping very well on his own and, damn me, I felt compelled to help him. Whether because of the bond I now felt or the centuries of friendship and history between us, I neither knew, nor cared. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He jerked slightly, as though my voice breaking the silence had startled him. Had he forgotten I was even here? His head turned slowly and he focused on me as though it was an effort. My heart squeezed for him. He stared at me and I waited patiently for a long moment. 

Then he sighed. “How much do you already know?” He asked roughly, and I realized he hadn’t actually spoken anything articulated since I’d arrived. I chose my next words very deliberately, selecting each one with care.

“I know that Nesta has decided to travel. She embarked shortly after I last saw you.” His face darkened. “I know you went home to Windhaven for a while - though I don’t know exactly how long - and then you came here.” I cast my glance around the room at the disarray and added, “I thought you had only arrived here three or four days ago, but it seems my information was wrong.”

“It wasn’t,” he grumbled. 

If he hadn’t been so clearly miserable his response might have actually made me laugh. The idea that one person could make this much mess - drink this incredibly much alcohol - within that time frame was practically absurd. What had he been eating to make so many dishes, and when had he been sober enough to cook? I didn’t really doubt that he had managed it, though. Ever since we were boys, Cassian had always dealt with his emotions by using his fists. His… whatever it was with Mor had never affected him like this thing with Nesta did, nor had any other female. Lacking things to punch, I could tell he was at an utter loss about how to cope, and was generally misfiring.

I eyed his hands then, and for the first time I realized his knuckles were pale pink and shiny, like skin that was almost fully healed. I wondered if he had busted his knuckles on some _one_ or some _thing_ \- remembering what Feyre had said about at least one fight in Windhaven - but I chose to ignore that, for now. I also chose to ignore the fact that he could apparently drink enough alcohol to kill a small sea monster. Instead, I prompted, “So what _don’t_ I know, then?”

“That she will not be coming back for a very, very long time. Maybe never. And if she does, it will not be for me.”

Despite everything, I was a little stunned. I had extended all three sisters the grace of _not_ being spied upon. So unlike Cassian, with his stalking tendencies, I had very little idea what Nesta had been doing in the weeks leading up to her conversation with him and subsequent departure. Feyre had told me that Nesta was leaving to travel, but not for how long. She had seemed sad and I hadn’t pried. Cassian’s reaction had been enough for me to draw some conclusions, but I hadn’t expected Nesta to do something so drastic or decisive.

“And how do you… feel?” We both knew I wasn’t asking about his emotional well-being - that part was obviously not good - but about the thing he had described that night in the town house sitting room. The thing that I now secretly understood.

“It faded when I left. It... shrank, I guess, and when I had flown far enough away it was gone. I’ve been imagining that it’s breaking apart as I think of the miles she has already crossed sailing away from me. I thought I felt it faintly one night when I was in Illyria, but it was probably just in my head.”

He paused then, a quizzical look on his face, frustration painted on every feature. “It’s back today, like a sick joke. It was there when I woke up and it’s there now, just quietly lurking.” He thumped a loose fist lightly on the armrest of his chair. “What the hell does it mean, Az?” Agitated, he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it further, and then dropped his hands, clenching them in his lap when he realized what he was doing.

I hardly dared to continue this conversation. This was absolutely not the time to blindside him with another piece of information he wasn’t ready to deal with, but I was also pretty surprised he hadn’t figured it out yet; especially if he was feeling the bond now that I was here. I opened my mouth to speak, but shoved it back down, and he glanced at me, noticing. _Damn_. I took a deep breath, asked the Mother for forgiveness and mercy, and asked the next-best question I could think of.

“When did you start feeling it? The very beginning, I mean.” I kept my voice as calm as I could until the words were out, and then held my breath. This was a delicate line to walk, and I didn’t know how long he would continue being open with me. I was acutely aware that this conversation could end with Cassian splitting his knuckles back open against my face. I waited, and eventually he decided to answer.

“I have felt it, on and off, since that day in Hybern when Nesta was… _made._ ” He spat the last word. “Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t process it. Even some parts from before I was injured are blurry. Then my wings were shredded and I could barely think. I was barely awake.” I nodded. I had been in a similar position at the time with an ash bolt coated in bloodbane impaling me through the chest. I remembered bits and pieces, and Rhys and Feyre had supplied the rest later, but I remembered enough.

“Elain and Lucien’s bond snapped in immediately. And I…” He paused to collect himself before continuing, “I felt this _thing_ after I finally woke up. After Madja _let_ me wake up.”

Nesta had been _made_ that day, but I had very nearly lost my life. I’d been shot in the chest right in front of him and he had known I might die. He hadn’t felt me tugging all those centuries ago because there was nothing there yet for him to feel. I didn’t know why or how that was possible - it’s not like it was the first time I had been wounded - but it seemed clear now. _Of course_ he would think what he did, given the information he had.

“Do you remember what happened when you were injured? Right before that blast of power from Hybern?” I asked, quietly.

He squinted a little in concentration, and I knew he was sorting through the scraps of memory from that day and fitting them together. “Rhys threw himself at Feyre to cover her…'' he began slowly, and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind. He backtracked, trying to put the events in the right order. “Tamlin and Lucien were standing near Hybern’s throne. Nesta and Elain were brought into the room, and you were on your knees on the floor, in your own blood.” His face twisted brutally at that, and I felt a pulse of anger that wasn’t mine, but he smoothed his features quickly and re-focused.

I waited, giving him time to think it through. I saw exactly when the realization came to him, as it had to me. Not just the memory, I knew he remembered he’d shielded me, but the understanding of what it meant and what had likely formed inside him that day, before Nesta went into the Cauldron. His eyes widened and his face went blank.

“Rhys threw himself over his mate to protect her. And I--” his voice dropped to a near whisper of disbelief. “I leapt in front of _you.”_

He spun in his seat to face me fully, gaping, and I couldn’t resist any longer. I tugged on the bond for the first time in almost half a millennia, and his eyes popped further, nearly bulging out of his face.

He leapt up and took two stumbling steps backwards, thumping into a side table. The empty bottles rattled against one another, clinking.

“What…”

His face was wild, and I felt myself go utterly cold. This was wrong. This had been a mistake and I shouldn’t have brought it up this way, not today, and maybe not ever. His eyes rolled like a spooked horse, re-assessing the exits and windows, and I sat perfectly, completely still, my eyes fixed on him. I’ve seen enough people panic in my long life, and I knew what to do to avoid making it worse. I’ve felt that panic before. The bond gave me precious little help assessing his exact emotions; they whirled so fast, and were still faint enough through the incomplete bond, that all I could really read was an overarching nausea and deep dread. That, at least, mirrored what I was feeling now. 

I only got a moment’s notice when his spinning emotions settled on fury, and I made myself sit stock-still as he took two long steps back toward me and cocked his fist. I knew he wasn’t going to pull his punch, but in the split-second I had to decide, I chose to let him hit me. If a brawl was what he needed right now then I could do that for him. It wouldn’t be the first time; fights between the three of us were practically their own art form.

I tried not to brace my neck as his fist collided squarely with my mouth and stars burst behind my eyes. He had really committed to this, and I was toppled backward in my chair, momentarily stunned. Framed by the darkened edges of my vision, the eyes of my friends stared down at me from where Feyre had painted them above the doorway, and they seemed to laugh. My lip was stinging and I tasted the faint tang of blood.

With my feet already above my head, I rolled backward over one shoulder and came up in a crouch as I blinked my vision clear, raising my guard by instinct. I expected Cassian to go around, but instead he leapt over the toppled chair with a slight thrust of his wings, so precise that it didn’t even disturb the bottles on the table next to him. The maneuver gained him an extra half-second that I hadn’t anticipated and his foot struck out as he landed, sweeping mine from beneath me before I was fully balanced. I toppled back, pulling my wings tight so the impact would be spread out, rather than wrenching them at the base.

There was a reason many of the Illyrians whispered of Enalius, the war god, when Cassian went into battle. There was a reason Cassian led the armies. The three of us were closely matched, but we all knew who would win in a fight. His knees crashed down to the floor on either side of me as he pinned me, and he slammed his fist into the side of my face. My head snapped to the right and I felt blood begin to trickle from a split high on my cheekbone, but I took the moment he was off-balance to punch him in the ribs.

He grunted, but his weight didn’t shift as much as I’d hoped, and I couldn’t roll. With the same hand he’d just punched me with, the asshole _backhanded_ me, causing my already-split lip to throb. Honestly, I could have put up a bit more of a fight, but the outcome would’ve been the same. I didn’t have it in me to hit him where it would really hurt, and I knew he wasn’t going to kill me. Blood was seeping into my mouth freely now, and I blinked my eyes clear yet again as I focused up at him.

His chest was heaving and there was a hint of silver lining his eyes. I saw him lock onto the blood that was now running down my cheek toward my ear, and his eyes slid to my mouth, taking in my split lower lip. I tried to smile at him, whether to provoke him further or show him it was okay I wasn’t sure, but it came out more like a bloody grimace. His jaw clenched, and he raised his fist again, pulling it back. And I might have resolved not to truly fight back, but I couldn’t help bracing myself, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

His knuckles pounded into the floor beside my head once, twice, and then Cassian sprang to his feet. He was out the door in an instant - practically ripping the wooden panel from its hinges - and stomped away, slamming it behind him hard enough to rattle the window panes.

I stayed on my back on the hard floor, catching my breath, listening to his angry footfalls slowly fade with distance. I didn’t hear wings, so I assumed he wouldn’t be going far, though there was no way to predict how long he would be gone. I prodded carefully at my split lip with my tongue, and winced when it burned. My face seemed alright; my left eye didn’t feel like it was swelling and the cut on my cheek wasn’t very big. That one would probably bruise, though everything would be gone without a trace in a matter of days. 

I’m not sure how much time passed as I laid there, cursing my own stupidity, but I eventually peeled myself back up and righted the armchair that had toppled over. A tendril of shadow licked up to my ear and whispered that Cassian had gone into the woods to hit things. Indeed, now that I focused I could just barely hear a rhythmic thudding sound, almost too faint to pick up, punctuated by the whoosh and boom of a tree being felled. I moved to the window to peer in that direction and could faintly see occasional flashes of red light limning the tops of the trees.

I stood there, looking out, and tried to decide what to do next. This kept happening and I didn’t like it one bit; recently I seemed unprepared for most every situation, and that is _not_ how I operate. I had this opportunity now to think things through, and I considered.

Leaving without him wasn’t an option. My feelings for him and the new bond I felt aside, we had a very real need of him back in Velaris to deal with Keir and his ‘court’. There was no way I was taking Rhys or Feyre in there with me to get Eris, and I needed backup. I also needed him to come with me to help sway a certain High Lord whose talents we would need if we were to have any chance at all of success.

Being here when he returned, however… well, I could imagine very few things that could be more awkward than that. I tried to picture his reaction when he walked back in the door to find me still here, and every scenario I could imagine ended poorly.

Sighing in frustration, I turned back to the room and blinked, shocked. The cabin was immaculate, the furniture back in its exact proper place and there was no trace of empty bottles or discarded laundry. In fact, Cassian’s small pack was sitting by the door, bulging with folded clothes. On any other day it might have pulled a rare laugh from me; Cassian was far enough away from the house that the magic had finally gotten over its pique and tidied up, and it seemed the cabin was ready for him to leave. Instead, I silently cursed the magic for waiting until _after_ I had done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

Now, there was also nothing to do but sit and wait. I grabbed a book at random from the small set of shelves, and tried to get comfortable on the sofa where I knew Cassian had slept the night before. His scent clung faintly to the material and I indulged myself, breathing it in. I opened to the middle of the book, not really seeing the words, and allowed my mind to wander.

The sun was setting hours later when he finally returned to find me still occupying the same place on the couch, the open, unread book in my lap. My shadows had given me advance warning of his arrival and, seeing no better way to be non-threatening, I had opted to stay put.

I closed the book and set it on the table beside me slowly, not wanting to move too suddenly. I could feel a confusing jumble of emotions in the bond again, though not as turbulent as before. I turned to face him, bracing myself, and I kept my gaze lowered, afraid of what I might see in his face. His knuckles were, predictably, raw and bloody. He had rolled his sleeves back from his hands at some point and his middle knuckle on each hand, usually covered by the leather that held his siphons, matched the others.

Those hands were hanging loose, though, and that was encouraging. I’d been fully prepared to let him pummel me some more if that was what he needed from me, but I hadn’t been looking forward to it. I let my eyes travel up, taking in the flecks of blood that had spattered onto his sleeves and dried, and finally I made my way to his face. 

He looked… determined? Those hazel eyes were blazing at me, and though his face was calmly neutral, there was a certain set in his jaw that I recognized. Something I could not explain compelled me to stand and face him, though I didn’t know what I intended to do next. He stared and stared at me, those emotions still whirling, and I stared back. I felt, for all the world, like he was trying to see into my soul, and I was a little apprehensive about what he might find.

He appraised me agonizingly slowly, eyes roaming all the way down to the floor and back up, settling again on my face, and I actually saw when it happened. His pupils expanded, just a fraction, and I saw him shiver. His wings and shoulders twitched as though shaking something off, and suddenly the bond inside me shone brighter. My awareness for his emotions expanded, and I started to be able to separate them from one another. _Disbelief. Frustration. Rage. Helplessness. Confusion. Regret. Doubt. Denial._

And beneath them all, somehow more steady, there was both shame, and… hope?

His eyes widened, and I knew exactly what he was feeling as his bond clicked into place. I felt the hope and shame within him grew stronger. He looked to my cheek again, which was now throbbing around the split in my skin, and he grimaced. I felt a pulse of pain and self-loathing that were not mine. I had to physically resist the urge to go to him; to close the distance between us with a few steps and try to comfort him. 

But it was too soon, and he was too raw, for me to risk it. “Cassian-” I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand.

His eyes unfocused slightly, and I realized after a moment that he was reading _my_ emotions now, too. _This is going to take some getting used to._ I tried to appraise what I was feeling; so focused had I been on the new sensations coming from the bond that I was unsure what Cassian would be feeling from me.

My stomach was tied up in nervous knots and I realized my palms were clammy. The shadows in the corners of the room were darker than they should be, even in the waning light, and I tried to master myself enough to spool them in. It seemed almost easier to pick apart his feelings, somehow, than to do so with my own. I felt a gentle tug on the bond, almost experimentally, and I tugged back.

He refocused on my face, and asked roughly, “How long have you known?”

I swallowed and braced myself for round two. “I figured it out after you left Velaris. About four days ago, now.”

“How?” The question was flat and clipped.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “If you aren’t planning on punching me again-” Shame flared through the bond and I immediately regretted my words. I’d been trying to lighten the mood, gods be damned, but of course I’d failed. I tried to brighten my tone further and continued, “Can we please have this conversation at the House of Wind? There’s no alcohol here anymore, and I, for one, could use a drink. We have a lot to discuss.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but I headed for the door, grabbed his pack, and strode out into the dim dusk light without giving him a chance. He caught up to me when I halted, far enough away, and I extended my hand in the space between us. He looked at it warily, hesitating to reach for me for the first time I could remember, and something dark and painful twisted inside me. But I kept my face impassive, waiting, and he eventually laid his hand in mine. I wrapped my shadows around us, and the cabin and the mountainside disappeared.


	7. Explanations

**Cassian**

Azriel winnowed us into the cool, dusk air outside the wards that surrounded the House of Wind, and I released his hand as quickly as I could, feeling almost as though it was burning me. We easily glided to a landing on one of the prominent patios that jutted out from the side of the mountain. This one connected to a comfortable, but intimate, sitting room and provided a more neutral territory than either of our bedrooms would have, for obvious reasons. There was nobody else currently staying here, though, and I was extremely aware of just how quiet it was - how alone we were.

Heading inside, Az tossed my pack on a chair and went straight for the sideboard near the corner of the room to grab a fresh bottle of liquid courage and two glasses, and I wondered whether my immortal blood was enough to keep my organs functioning if I drank any more. It was probably a miracle that I hadn’t died of dehydration or liver failure. Sensing our presence, the faelights throughout the space brightened, illuminating the room, and I took a seat at one end of the couch. I arranged my wings behind me, accepted the glass he proffered, and promptly placed it on the low table in front of me. I wasn’t planning to drink it, but better to have it in easy reach.

He surprised me by sitting at the other end of the couch, turning his whole body toward me and folding one knee up onto the cushions. I felt the space between us go taut, though it might have been my imagination, and I slowly turned to face him similarly. I had expected him to opt for one of the chairs. _This_ seating arrangement felt strangely... intimate. I couldn’t decide exactly how I felt about that.

The bruise I’d made on his left cheekbone had deepened to a sickly greenish-blue color, and his split lower lip had swollen slightly, though not as much as it could have. I tried not to let my eyes linger too long on the damage. We had beaten each other up plenty of times, but this time it felt different. I hated myself a little bit more each time my eyes were drawn to the injuries.

As if in response, Azriel sent calm reassurance through the bond, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease. Despite that, his own breathing was quicker than usual and, though he wore that same composed expression he always had, I could sense that he was gathering his thoughts and deciding how to start. I gave him time, though by the time he finally spoke I had almost wanted to scream from impatience.

He evidently had decided to start from the _very_ beginning. “I first felt the inklings of the bond when I was seventeen.”

I gaped at him. Holy Gods… I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have that fist in my chest taunting me for what amounted to my _entire fucking life_. I had been feeling it for less than a year and some days it had felt like it would drive me mad. Like something you keep glimpsing from the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look there was nothing there.

He gave me a humorless half-smile and I felt a bolt of old pain as he continued, “I felt it for the first time when I awoke one morning in Windhaven. I didn’t know until a few days later that it had been the morning after you and Morrigan…” He trailed off, and I felt my face heat with shame.

That night, with her, was the single biggest regret of my entire life. I had been jealous of her little flirtations with Az, youthful and tentative, and the way he no longer wanted to spend all of his time with me and Rhys. He had changed, in a hundred little ways, after the day he had met her. And I was young and horny and fucking stupid, and I had leapt at the chance to bed the most beautiful female either of us had ever seen. The three of us were always competing, and it had seemed like a sort of victory. I hadn’t loved her - at the time we hadn’t even known each other for very long - and all these centuries later the love I now felt for her was halfway between family and friend. I had been such a prick, so self-absorbed, that I had actually been jealous of…

Fuck me, I had been jealous of losing _Azriel’s_ attention, not about gaining hers. And the moment I had seen Azriel’s face, after he learned the truth, I had absolutely hated myself. _I’m as unbelievably stupid as Nesta thinks I am._

Az paused, whether to gather his thoughts or because he knew I was gathering mine, I wasn’t sure. But he took a deep breath, and as he began to speak again I got the sense that he had played out this conversation many times already in his mind.

“I had a dream that night - the first of many - that was so clear I almost couldn’t tell if it was a memory. I dreamt of Mor lying naked on a bed as I knelt between her thighs. I could see every little detail; the expression of nervous excitement on her face, the flush of her cheeks and chest, the way certain strands of hair caught the light where they lay upon the pillow. I even saw a few freckles on her body that I couldn’t have known about, but that I have glimpsed since. I could feel my wings as I flared them, showing off for her, and how her eyes widened in awe. I reached for her, and my hands had been free of scars, my skin as smooth as it was when I was a boy.”

He stopped for a moment, then, and I felt like my heart was being squeezed in an iron fist. He had been controlling his emotions well, trying to project calm nostalgia through the bond, but there was a bitter hint of betrayal at the edges that turned my stomach. At that last part, however, his emotions expanded into a longing so deep it felt like it could swallow me. It physically hurt, and I realized - for the first time - just exactly how Az felt about the scars on his hands. I realized how deep those scars really went.

I had recoiled from his hand half an hour ago as we’d been about to leave the cabin, and he had looked down at it with the strangest swirl of emotions flaring and then disappearing. I must be in the running for some type of ‘unwitting asshole’ award.

“This part is just a theory, but I think the initial… whatever it was… formed in me that night because of how nearby you were in the camp when such an important thing happened to you. It was your first time, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. This was a conversation we should have had a very long time ago, but we never had. And now, facing him as my mate instead of just as a friend, I understood more clearly than I ever had exactly how enormously I had fucked up that night. It wasn’t enough that Mor had been literally tortured and left for dead by her family for it, but I had ignited five hundred years of confusion, sorrow, and pain within the male who was _apparently_ my Gods-damned soul-bonded mate.

He smiled slightly at the confirmation. “As I went about my day that day, I realized that I felt something inside me that I’d never felt before, and I naturally ignored it, as one does when they’re young and invincible.” He chuckled, that rare little laugh of his that sounded like playful shadows. “A few days later it was still there, and after I brought Mor home from the Autumn Court and got the details, I put two and two together and suspected what it was. I had it all wrong, though. I sat with her for hours while she slept after Madja had seen to her injuries, and I tried to feel anything at all through that little thread. All I could get was the faintest sensation of deep pain.” His face turned contemplative a moment, then he went on. “Over several days I imagined that I was pulling on it, trying to draw her to me, but nothing happened and she never reacted. I tried to tell her I loved her, but she turned on her heel and walked away, and I assumed that I just had terrible judgement and timing, and that she needed more time to recover emotionally. And for a long time since then, I believed that I had contributed to her trauma by trying to force my feelings onto her.”

I wanted to curl up and die. We had been best friends, just a little closer to each other than we’d been to Rhys, the two Illyrian bastards who were somehow powerful as hell and equally matched. He had started to come out of his shell in the years between his arrival at Windhaven and… _that_ night. And afterward he had retreated back into the thoughtful, observant, but ultimately quiet and sad version of himself, and had never emerged. It was all my fault.

“I tried tugging on it a few more times about a year or two later, when she seemed to be back to herself, but she still had no reaction. All these years she has kept you around to act as a buffer between us, and I was too stupid to realize that - though I nearly always felt it when she was nearby - I _also_ felt it when she was not. It was always disconcerting. It never pulled me, though. Not until after that day in Hybern.”

I finally reached for the glass on the table that I probably shouldn’t drink, tossing half of it back quickly and plunking it back down. I could tell he wasn’t finished talking, and I had nothing to say, anyway. 

He back-tracked a little and continued. “I have had that dream of Morrigan thousands upon thousands of times, over the years. But I have also had dreams that were similarly clear that didn’t make as much sense. I dreamed of battles I hadn’t fought in the war, in places I had never been ordered to go. In these dreams, too, my hands were smooth, but my siphons were the wrong color.” He cut his eyes meaningfully toward my wrist, where my red siphon currently sat with my sleeve rolled back.

“I feel like an idiot _now,_ obviously, but for a long time I wondered whether I might have something like a seer’s gift, or if I was somehow seeing glimpses into a different version of reality. One where my brothers had never tortured me and I had been the one Mor had chosen.” His tone remained steady, his gaze clear and fixed on my face, but I could feel how deep the wounds went, all the doubt and fear and confusion.

“The day you left, the bond was yanked so fucking hard I almost fell down from the force of it, outside the town house. That was the last straw, and I decided to find an opportunity to talk to Rhys and ask him some… _personal_ questions. Earlier, in the cabin, you said you thought you felt the bond faintly a few days ago. I went to the Hewn City that night to infiltrate the Court of Nightmares, so I-”

“You did _WHAT_?” I burst out, disbelieving.

That little smile on the edges of his lips returned. “I am the court’s _spymaster_ , and you act like you can’t believe I went to go _spy_ on someone,” he teased.

“What the hell were you doing there? What happened?”

“Trust me, I’ll get to that. For now, please shut up so I can finish. What I was _saying_ is that you likely felt the bond faintly that night because that was the closest we had come to one another since you left Velaris.” That was a small comfort. I had drunk enough that night to kill a horse, believing I was losing my damn mind. 

“I sat down with Rhys and Feyre the next morning and they were generous enough to answer my more intimate questions about their bond, and I was finally able to fit the pieces together. I spent two days alone here in my room, laying on my bed, contemplating just about every moment of my Gods-damned life up to that point. I realized it was _you_ , Cassian, you were the one who possessed the other half of the bond. _You_ were the one who had been tugging me ever since Hybern. That it was the friend who helped teach me how to fly, the friend who beat my ass more times than I can count, my best friend through war and death, who had never let me fall too far or too hard.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and he blinked them away, and I felt my throat squeeze tightly. “It was always you, and we just didn’t see it.”

I cleared my throat and - as was becoming my habit these days, apparently - asked the dumbest of my many questions first. “Why didn’t the -- fuck I still don’t know what to call it -- the _pre_ -bond form for me? On my end?” _You’re real great with the words, Cassian._

He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I could only guess, honestly, and while I have a few ideas about it, I don’t think it really matters _why_ it took so long to form. I think what we need to do now is decide what we’re going to do about it.”

And there it was, the bald terrifying fact settling over us like the silence we lapsed into.

“I felt something shift and click into place today,” I admitted, and he nodded. “But… I don’t know how to describe it, but it doesn’t feel like it’s completely _there_ yet. It’s more solid than before, I can sense you now, but it still doesn’t seem like what Feyre and Rhys can feel.”

“Part of that is the fact that they are both Daemati. Many bonded mates can’t communicate mind to mind in exactly the same way. It can be more about sensing and feeling rather than actual words. I’m fairly certain that Viviane and Kallias can only communicate words through the bond when they’re close to one another, for example. Daemati mates would have to be incredibly rare; I’m not sure if there has ever been another pair of mates quite like Rhys and Feyre in all of history.”

“And what’s the other part?”

His face flushed as much as I have ever seen, and Azriel fidgeted, looking deeply uncomfortable. _Well, that makes two of us, buddy._

“Rhys and Feyre said…” he hesitated, and then tried again, his words faltering. “They said that when they… after Rhys told Feyre everything and she accepted the bond, they…”

“They had sex,” I supplied, flatly. He looked away for a moment, embarrassed. 

“Right,” he said quickly, and licked his lips. “They said that the bond ‘coalesced’ -- that was their word, not mine, don’t look at me like that -- after… that night.”

It would have been funny how embarrassed he was if I hadn’t been equally mortified. The idea of having sex with Azriel was… well, I had never considered it, I guess. He was objectively attractive, I had just never really looked at him that way. 

“Have you ever been with a male before, Az?” I sounded much more steady than I felt, but the bond flooded with apprehension. Shadows bloomed in a tight aura around him, and the corners of the room darkened. Tiny eddies within his shadows whirled and spun at a frantic pace. His face was a practiced mask of calm, but I could feel everything. 

Among many cultures, same-sex relationships were accepted. Thesan, High Lord of the Dawn Court, had a male lover, though there was no mating bond there as far as any of us knew. But among Illyrians… well, Illyrians were equally as obsessed with lineage and progeny as Keir or Beron. A male could get his wings clipped for something like that.

Not that others’ expectations had ever really hindered me very much. 

“Yes, I have,” he said, voice almost flat, and I knew he feared my condemnation. I tried to soothe him; I summoned up calming, peace, acceptance, all the nameless emotions I could bundle up to send along the bond with an unpracticed push. 

“Me too,” I admitted. 

He gawked at me, which for him meant his eyes widened a little further and his lips parted slightly around a quick inhale. It felt strange to be the calm one, for once, and for Az to be so emotional.

“What?” I asked, playfully. “After a few hundred years and a few too many of Helion’s suggestive comments, I got curious.” I winked at him.

“With _Helion!?”_

“Oh, Gods no, wouldn’t that have been a mess. But when someone makes enough remarks _directly at you_ , I mean, eventually you give it some thought. I got curious,” I repeated, and shrugged.

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed - _really_ laughed - from somewhere deep in his chest. Something like joy blossomed along the bond, and his laugh rolled through the room, rich and deep and dark. My breath caught, in that moment, his smile stealing a little of the air from my lungs. This had obviously been one of the things he had been most concerned about.

He subsided to little chuckles and gasps, wiping his eyes, and I felt amusement and relief from him. I shook my head a little, trying to clear the feeling his unbridled laugh had left me with. This bastard had at least had a few days to think about all of this, but I’d just found out this morning. Subtle as a brick to the back of the skull, he’d showed up just hours ago with this shitstorm. I needed some time to think, and I had a headache building behind my eyes. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose for a moment and I felt his mirth subside back to a low simmer of worry. I realized, with a little shock, that I had barely thought about Nesta at all since… well, since Az tugged on the bond this morning. There was still a painful ache in my chest as I thought of her now, and I knew that the grieving process wasn’t yet finished there. But at least I finally understood that damn thing I’d been feeling that had tormented me. At least I knew now, for certain, that she wasn’t my mate. That helped, strangely, more than I would have expected.

“Listen, Az, this is a whole lot to think about and I’m really, really short on sleep. Can you brief me on whatever happened in the Hewn City? After that, I’m going to bed.”

He looked a little put out at that, but he nodded. He gave me a concise but thorough summary of what had happened in the Court of Nightmares and who he had found in one of the prison cells. When he finished, I whistled a low note through my teeth.

“So, is there a plan yet?” I asked.

“Yes and no. Tomorrow you’re coming with me to pay a visit to the Day Court, and then we will finish making the rest of the plan from there.”

I made a half-hearted sound of agreement and rose from the couch, bracing my hands on my hips and stretching my back. I wasn’t sure how long we had been sitting here, but the sun had fully set some time ago now, and I could see the stars peeking out of the darkness through the windows. Azriel’s eyes followed my motions, a different look in them than I was used to, and I straightened quickly, dropping my hands to my sides. He rose gracefully, facing me, and we stood for a long, awkward moment.

“Well, goodnight,” I said with a little wave. _Fucking genius, Cass._

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Goodnight,” he practically purred, low and soft. His shadows reached for me, just a little, threads of night licking in the air, but he held them back.

I wish I could say I strolled calmly out of the sitting room and into the hallway, but in reality I probably looked like I was fleeing the scene of a crime. I closed the distance to the door with quick, long strides, and didn’t slow when I was in the hall. I practically burst into a run the second the door closed behind me, and I tried not to think about the fact that he could likely hear my too-quick steps on the smooth stone.

My chambers here in the House of Wind were blessedly far from Azriel’s, and I felt the bond weakening, little by little, as I put that distance between us. It was still stronger than it had ever been before today, but the tension that now seemed to fill the air between us was lessening, too, one step at a time.

Back in my rooms, I locked the door behind me and leaned on it for a moment, feeling a little better knowing that I had some guaranteed privacy. Not that I thought Az would come bursting in on me, but some strange survival instinct _really_ liked the bolted door against my back right now.

I shucked off my clothes and took a bath, staring blankly at the wall until the water turned cold, then dried off and climbed in bed. The minutes ticked by and I laid there, thinking.

I marveled at the feeling of the bond, even knowing it was lacking that final act that would allow it to form completely. I hadn’t even realized how alone I had always been, but now that there was this awareness inside me, I couldn’t imagine going back to that solitude of the soul. The feeling reminded me of those first months in Windhaven after Rhys and his mother had arrived; the incredulous feeling of having a home and someone to take care of me, so sweet and unexpected it had been hard to believe it was real. It was a revelation, and one that made it very hard to fall asleep while he was still so near.

I hadn’t resolved anything, or made any decisions, but I was exhausted and dawn was only a few short hours away. I silenced the voice inside that was asking too many questions, and I climbed back out of bed, pulling on a soft pair of cotton pants and a light shirt. I retraced the path, barefoot, back through the halls and stopped when I reached the end of the hallway that would lead me to Azriel’s door.

I couldn’t tell whether he was awake or asleep through the bond. It sat quietly inside me, and I doubted my intelligence one last time before padding onward toward his suite. 

His chambers, like mine, had a small anteroom to pass through before reaching the bedroom, and I intended to knock softly at the inner door to his bedchamber. I was surprised, then, when I peeked through the unlocked main door to see the bedroom door was open, and I felt suddenly guilty for intruding. I had locked my own door behind me, and then barged right into his suite.

“Azriel?” I asked quietly into the dark.

“Cass?” I heard the rustling of sheets and wings. “What is it?” He sounded alert, and the calm quiet of the bond remained steady. I approached the open doorway tentatively, my eyes adjusting to the lower light, and I squinted into his room. 

“Come in. What’s wrong?” He motioned me into the room and I found my feet slowly leading me toward him. I stopped an arm’s length from the foot of the bed. I damned everything to hell and I just asked him.

  
“Can I sleep in here? In the bed?” _With you?_ I didn’t voice the last part out loud. He didn’t answer right away, and I struggled to make out his features in the dark room. He had built his fire small, and it had already burned down to smoldering coals, casting almost no light. The darkness always seemed a little deeper around him, anyway. I took comfort that the bond continued to hold steady.

I realized abruptly that his chest was bare, the sheets pulled up around his waist. Tiny pools of deeper shadow collected in the hollows of his chest and stomach, between defined muscles, and they rippled, mingling with the whorls of his tattoos as he breathed. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling myself relax more, here in his presence, than I had in my own bed. After a moment he spoke.

“Cassian. I, um…” he cleared his throat. “I’m naked under here.” And steady, unflappable Azriel sounded so uncertain of himself that I barked out a laugh, loud enough that he flinched, startled. 

“Hang on,” I managed between fits of nearly hysterical laughter. Wasn’t this just the awkward fucking icing on this ridiculous damned day. I pulled a set of light clothes out of one of his drawers and handed them to him, reaching across the empty side of the bed. I turned my back, and I heard more rustling as he pulled the thin garments on. When he stilled again, I waited two heartbeats before turning back to regard him.

He didn’t say anything, but I felt a little hope sneak through the bond, as though he were trying to hold it down to mask it. He just reached over and flicked the covers back on the empty side of the bed in silent invitation. I climbed in gingerly - feeling really gods-damned stupid - but I wasn’t going to sleep tonight if I wasn’t near him, that much was clear.

I slid between the covers and lay on my side facing him, letting my wings rest limply behind me across the mattress. Alone, Azriel could probably sleep with his wings in any position in this bed, but together we took up enough space that the last third of my wings were draped over the side toward the floor.

He slowly laid back down facing me - scooting from his sitting position - lacking any other option for positioning himself. He left about two feet of space between us, and I felt that tension in the gap, gently trying to draw me to him. It grated on my nerves a little less than it had before.

“We’ll have to get a bigger bed,” I murmured, drowsily, and he coughed. My face flamed and I was thanking the Mother for the darkness that hid us both.

We lay there and I listened to his breathing, and the calm, steady weight of the bond in my chest finally soothed me to sleep.


	8. The Day Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel and Cassian make a trip to the Day Court to try to enlist Helion's help. Helion is a shameless flirt and not everybody likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this posting, there is no existing canon describing the Day Court palace, so it's all straight from my imagination. :)

**Azriel**

I came awake all at once and was briefly disoriented. I was in my bed, but the angle of the light was all wrong for it to be morning. I was still in the same position, relative to the bed, as I had been when we’d fallen asleep. At some point as we slept, however, Cassian had crossed that space between us as though magnetized and had wrapped himself around me. I had to concentrate to keep my breathing slow and even, not wanting to awaken him yet as the jumbled pieces from the previous day reassembled themselves in my mind.

I had rolled part way onto my back and wings in my sleep, and Cassian was pressed against my chest, his head tucked under my chin and his arm around me. Our nightwear was light enough that it might as well not have been there, in terms of physical barriers. I could feel the heat of his sleep-flushed skin through the thin material, and I could feel every inch of his body that pressed against mine.

He was going to lose his shit if he woke up like this, and there was no conceivable way to extricate myself without awakening him. I lay perfectly still, counting my breaths, and prayed to the Mother that he would roll over on his own before waking up - though I was also in no hurry to lose the feeling of his arm around me and his head on my chest.

My heart sank as he stirred, and I could just barely see the fringe of his lashes as he blinked.  _ Fuck. _ For one wildly irrational moment I considered pretending I was asleep, but my heart was now thundering against my sternum and with his ear pressed to my chest, there was no way he couldn’t hear it. I braced myself, preparing for another potential brawl, but he surprised me.

Cass raised his head, looked around, and then shifted his weight off me just enough to prop himself on an elbow. I met his eyes warily, but he looked surprisingly well-rested and had a lazy smile on his face. The dark smudges beneath his eyes had faded considerably, and his eyes themselves seemed clearer. He pointedly surveyed our position, sweeping those striking eyes dramatically down our bodies before settling them back on my face and chuckling. It was a relaxed sound and I felt my breathing ease, my heart beginning to slow, just a little; my racing heart had been caused by more than the prospect of his anger.

“Coming to climb into bed with you wasn’t enough for my subconscious, it had to glue me to your side in my sleep, too.” 

“So it would seem,” I replied, opting for, and hopefully achieving, humorous neutrality.

“Well then. As surprisingly nice of a wakeup as this is, I’m going to pop across the hall and use the bathing chamber. Any chance you can do your shadow-winnowing thing to go get me some real clothes from my room?” I considered a smart-ass reply, but the round trip to his room and back would take nearly half an hour if he walked.

“Better idea. How about I winnow you to your suite so you can get dressed and use your  _ own _ bathing chamber, I’ll use mine, and then I’ll come back to get you.”

He finally lifted his arm from where it lay across my side to scrub at his face, and I missed its presence immediately. “That’s a much better idea. Your brain has always been smarter than mine in the morning.”

“It’s not morning anymore,” I said wryly, looking out the window again. We hadn’t fallen asleep until almost dawn, and it appeared that we had somehow slept until the late afternoon. “Come on, we had things we needed to do today.” As much as I didn’t want to, I slid out of bed and pulled him with me, grumbling. As soon as his feet hit the floor I winnowed us into his antechamber, released him, and winnowed away, appearing in my own bathing chamber a moment later. 

I chuckled as I imagined him stumbling, and I felt a little pulse of amused annoyance from him. Smiling despite myself, I poured water from the ewer into the awaiting basin and began my morning routine in the middle of the afternoon.

I winnowed back into his antechamber a short time later and found him waiting for me, ready to go. He was back in the black leather armor that matched my own and he had bound his hair back with a cord to keep it out of his face.

“Ready for your morning Death Dive?” he asked, sounding enthusiastic. I’m sure he felt my surprise, because he followed with, “We all know you do it. I came up with the catchy name. You think everyone you know can’t see you plummeting down a thousand foot drop every damn day at sunrise? In plain sight?” Well, when he put it like that, it did seem absurd. They couldn’t know what I was thinking about as I fell, though, so that piece still belonged to me, alone.

“Again, It’s late afternoon,” I said instead.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, “You know what I meant.”

“Well yeah, if you don’t mind I can meet you in the air outside the wards.”

“I’m jumping with you, dumbass. Come on.” He said it affectionately, and he walked out through the door and into the hallway without acknowledging my shock.  _ Well, this is a hell of a change from his mood yesterday. _ I followed him out of the suite, down the hallway, and out onto the nearest patio. It wasn’t the exact angle of Velaris that I viewed every day; that I’d memorized so well that I could picture it in perfect detail with my eyes closed. But it was equally breathtaking. 

The sun was in our eyes, but Cassian stood at the railing, waiting patiently, somehow knowing that this quiet moment was part of my daily ritual. I drank in the view, stretching my wings, and I could see him copying my movements from the corner of my eye. I braced my hands on the stone railing, warm from the afternoon sun, and hopped up, balancing easily and squaring up to my full height. Cass was a split second behind me, hopping up with the agility of a mountain cat, and he turned to look at me, grinning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve watched you make this jump and wished I could make it with you.” I didn’t know what he thought this was for me, so I had no idea what to say. I just offered him a half smile and turned my attention back to the drop below, looking down. 

He proved just how many times he had secretly witnessed this as we moved in perfect unison, spreading our arms open wide and tucking our wings to our backs. With one last grin in my direction, we leaned forward and fell into the open air.

The wind screamed in my ears and we tucked our arms tight to our sides. I tried to forget that there was someone with me. I tried to embrace the familiar burst of terror, tried to become that little boy who couldn’t fly-

Cassian  _ whooped _ , fierce, unbridled joy surging through the bond, so strong it overpowered everything else, becoming my emotions, too. He spread his wings and flapped once, tucking them again, propelling himself faster toward the ground. It was wild and it was savage and it was  _ freedom _ . 

And in the last moment before we had to pull out of the fatal dive, all I saw was him. 

His magnificent wings snapped open, muscles straining, and he banked hard with another joyous  _ whoop _ followed by a warm wave of laughter that echoed back faintly off the face of the mountain. I ascended with him and we flapped, slowing, to hover in the air just outside the wards. He had a massive grin on his face and his pupils were blown from the adrenaline surge. There was a bit of extra color in his cheeks, and that raw, undiluted joy was still flowing from him, filling me. 

This time, when I reached for him, he didn’t hesitate as he grasped my hand, and we winnowed away to the Day Court.

* * *

**Cassian**

I was still grinning, heart still pounding, when my boots landed on the pale, polished sandstone floor of Helion Spellcleaver’s palace. I had felt lighter since waking up plastered to Azriel’s chest - as awkward as the first few moments had been - and it was nice to have the weight lifted from my heart even if it might turn out to be temporary. I knew I’d be facing my thoughts again later, and had decided to ignore them for now and just go with it.

Az had winnowed us into a particular receiving hall within Helion’s palace whose shields were specially keyed to allow entry to certain allies. The perimeter was layered with additional, invisible wards that even we could not pass without being escorted. A young boy with the dark tan complexion common to the Day Court stood nearby, his eyes going wide as we appeared, and he promptly took off at a run down one of the adjoining hallways. No doubt a messenger who helped monitor this room. 

I released Azriel’s hand more slowly this time, and we waited in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I took the time to slow my breathing and come down a bit from that thrill. It didn’t take long at all before he appeared a few strides in front of us with a little flash of pale light.  _ Always dramatic _ .

“Azriel! Cassian! Good to see you,” the High Lord greeted us jovially. He wore his usual attire; a white garment that seemed to be made of a single long strip of fabric that draped over one shoulder, covering half of his dark, muscled chest, and then wrapped around his hips. He wore the golden serpents that encircled his upper arms, but he wore no crown today, indicating he considered this meeting to be a more casual one. I returned his easy smile, reaching out to clasp his forearm.

“Always a pleasure,” I replied smoothly, and I felt Az stiffen a little beside me.

Helion didn’t seem to notice as he gave me a knowing wink and then turned to Azriel, clasping his forearm in turn, his eyes lingering on the bruise on Az’s cheek. He didn’t say anything though, just smiled at Az in a way that set me on edge and then motioned for us to follow him toward a different hallway, across the room from the one the boy had disappeared through. “Are you two hungry? I was contemplating an early dinner this evening.”

“That would be great,” I answered for us both. I hadn’t eaten since the omelette in the cabin yesterday morning - Gods was that only yesterday? - and I hadn’t seen Az eat anything, either. Helion waved a hand casually as we approached the perimeter of the room, presumably opening the shields for us, and we passed through into the hallway without incident.

Azriel asked Helion what news he had of the other courts as we followed the High Lord through his palace, and he shared some inconsequential tidbits while we walked. We all knew nothing truly important would be discussed in the middle of a hallway, but it was nice to fill the silence.

The palace was large, airy, and bright, even with the sun beginning to creep closely to the horizon. The polished sandstone gleamed, the hue of the walls slightly paler than that of the floor, and skylights high above let in natural light wherever possible. The walls were carved with unpainted reliefs and friezes that added an understated elegance to the architecture. Where many hallways intersected, large open spaces acted as informal meeting places, typically with a fountain in the center spouting crystal clear water into the air and a paned glass dome ceiling high above.

About half the people we passed had the same deep, burnished bronze complexion as the High Lord, almost seeming to glow in the sunlight, but there were many other types of Fae living peacefully among them. They were not quite so many or so varied as in Velaris, but it showed the tolerance and inclusivity of the Court over which Helion ruled.

Surprisingly, he did not lead us to one of his dining rooms, formal or informal. Instead, he led us to a small lounge room of sorts, the sandstone floors covered in plush layered rugs from wall to wall. Vibrantly colored, overstuffed cushions in reds and whites and golds were placed artfully around the room, and the small size made the space feel warmer and more intimate. There was no fire in the hearth, the spring evenings here being warm enough not to need one, but a few faelights graced the walls and ceiling casting a subdued but steady light.

Helion moved to one set of golden cushions with languid grace, folding himself down to lean against them. The slight, ever-present luminosity of his skin matched the glow of the reflected light off the metallic fabric almost perfectly. Azriel and I each chose a spot and less gracefully seated ourselves, trying - with some difficulty - to arrange our wings comfortably. Helion observed our minor struggle with eyes alight with amusement and mischief. The configuration had us sitting in a rough triangle, close enough to one another that we would almost have been able to touch fingertips if we had extended our arms.

He must have prepared ahead of time, because at the snap of Helion’s fingers a few trays of food and drink appeared on the floor around and between us within easy reach. This was not at all how I had pictured this meeting going, but I tried to relax.

Azriel and the High Lord picked at the finger foods on their trays as they spoke. Everything tasted delicious, but I was too focused on the conversation between them to really pay attention to what I was cramming in my mouth. I tried to take only the smallest sips of the pale wine that had been provided in slender goblets, not particularly eager to lose my wits or to aggravate the mild hangover that still lingered in the back of my skull.

I felt guilty for stuffing my face while Azriel was unable to really tuck into his food - and I suspected he was starving - but he had not told me many details about the Hewn City the previous night, so some of this was new information for me. I had nothing else to contribute but to eat and try to take it all in, filing away details. When he finished speaking, Helion looked thoughtful and the silence stretched as he considered everything he had just been told.

“This sounds like it is very much an internal affair - with the exception of Eris, for whom I feel little affection.” He ran his eyes over Azriel again on the word ‘affection’.  _ Bastard. _ “So then why do you need to involve  _ me _ when your very own High Lady of the Night has my same power to cleave wards?” He leaned back on his cushion, expectant.

“For one thing,” Az began, “While Feyre’s power and ability is impressive, it is still but a kernel of your own. We have reason to believe that Keir is somehow in possession of one of Hybern’s spell books, and it is possible that we might need more raw strength for this task than our Lady can bring to bear.” He paused then, as though considering whether to add the next part. He glanced at me before looking back to Helion.

“In addition to that, Rhys and Feyre began trying to conceive a child a few weeks ago.” I locked my expression, trying not to let my surprise show, and Az continued. “Due to the unique nature of her transformation to High Fae, we are not entirely sure whether she will experience the usual difficulty to conceive, nor do we know how long it could take for her to show the signs. We do not even know what those signs will be, aside from missing her bi-annual cycle. Of course these things take time and it is unlikely that she will conceive so quickly, but both Feyre and Rhys agree that we cannot risk her safety when she could potentially be pregnant.” 

To his credit Helion nodded, looking thoughtful. “Forgive me, this will sound crass; but, if and when Lady Feyre has her next cycle, will they continue trying to conceive or will they then wait until this new threat passes?”

“I don’t know,” Az said slowly. I could feel his surprise through the bond. “They didn’t mention it, and I honestly didn’t think to ask.”

“I didn’t suppose you would know, but it was worth a try,” the male flicked his wrist as if to say it was inconsequential. “While I have no desire to involve my people or my lands, I understand why you came to me for this. If everything you say is true -- don’t bristle at me, Cassian, I’m not doubting your word -- then this could be a formidable threat.” I hadn’t realized I was ‘bristling’ but I tried to relax my neck and shoulders.

I fought the urge to fill the silence or demand his answer. I held my breath, waiting, as Helion considered a moment longer. 

“I’ll go with you, but we will go alone or with a small strike force from your own Court. I’m not involving any of my people in this little civil war of yours.”

“Just the three of us,” Az replied quietly. “I will need to be able to winnow us quickly while you’re dismantling the wards.” 

He laid out the main points of his plan, and we collaborated to settle all the other details. It was decided that we would go the following evening around midnight; we didn’t want to waste any more precious time, but we all needed one more good night’s sleep first. 

As the serious talk resolved, Helion snapped his fingers again, summoning a decanter of something stronger and three glasses. He filled them deftly, floating one to each of us. He turned the subject toward gossip, growing more animated, and started slipping suggestive comments into his sentences none-too-subtly as he sipped his drink. I just held my glass, my body still feeling sluggish from the past several days.

“So where is the lovely Morrigan?” He bantered, shooting a sly glance at Az. “I hope those marks on your face don’t have anything to do with her absence this evening. Though perhaps they were earned while doing something  _ fun _ .” He drew out that last word, eyes twinkling with mischief. “ I thought you three were always in on these things together. I’m surprised you were able to keep her away from something that involved her prick father.” 

I felt myself grinding my teeth and tried to unclench my jaw, but I didn’t like the way his words made me feel. “Mor has her own duties to attend to in service of the Night Court,” I replied, sparing Azriel and hoping I sounded calm. I wanted Helion’s attention off of him, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. I did the first thing that came to mind. “I didn’t know she needed to be here in order for you to…  _ enjoy  _ our company.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively and felt a pang of annoyance through the bond.  _ Well, well. This could be fun. _

Helion focused his attention on me, pupils dilating, and his voice was a few steps lower when he responded. “She’s the only one of you who plays with me, despite my blatant attention.” He flicked the tip of his tongue across his full bottom lip, meeting my eyes. I felt a stronger surge of annoyance now through the bond, with an edge of anger to it.

“Perhaps you didn’t make it clear enough to us that we didn’t have to be a packaged deal,” Az cut in, low and seductive, and I felt something stirring in me at the timbre of his voice before the words fully registered, punching me in the gut. Those amber eyes flew to Azriel, locking in, and glazed with lust. Az let a tendril of his shadow drift toward Helion, curling as though beckoning to him, and the High Lord visibly shivered, starting to glow a little brighter.  _ What the fuck is he doing? _

I wanted to leave this room right now, but Az still hadn’t finished eating and it was his first meal in two days. I stared at him pointedly until he made eye contact, widened my eyes meaningfully, and cut my gaze to the remaining food on the tray before him. I tugged the bond lightly and sent him a flare of impatience for good measure, and was satisfied to see him twitch. He reached toward the food, but I caught the little smirk he tried to hide and the flash of wickedness in the bond.

He met the High Lord’s gaze again as he took a slow bite of a small pastry, licking his lips appreciatively, and Helion’s own mouth parted with a gasp. It was all I could do to remain motionless as I watched in disbelief.  _ Seriously, what - the - fuck? _

Helion leaned forward as though transfixed and brushed the tips of his fingers lightly against the small cut on Azriel’s cheek, and with a soft flare of white light the bruise faded, the scabbed cut vanishing. For a moment, my mind went blank with surprise. Healing is a Dawn Court power; Feyre got her ability from Thesan’s gift. How had Helion kept this ability secret? My shock only lasted a moment though, and then my heart twisted and I felt like my skin was too tight. I was locked in my body. My anger roiled and I pushed it down so hard that I felt numb, but there was a dull roaring in my ears.

He started to move those fingers toward  _ my mate’s _ lips and I lost it. I shot to my feet - subtlety be damned - startling Helion. He thankfully pulled his hand back reflexively, or I might have tried to break it. I babbled a string of words that I was pretty sure contained ‘it’s late’, ‘thanks’, ‘tomorrow’, and ‘goodnight’ in no particular order, among others. I didn’t care what that handsy asshole thought. Az kept his face neutral as I reached down and hauled him to his feet, but I felt wicked amusement through the bond. It was stoking the anger that I was trying desperately to keep in check. Helion looked a bit chagrined, but not upset, as I precipitated our abrupt exit.

I clutched Azriel’s arm, towing him with me out into the hall and away from that smug, glowing son of a bitch.


	9. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Azriel finally share their first kiss, and Cassian comes to some important decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter before the new book was out, and it has a couple of similarities. (Not going to be more specific because I don't want to post spoilers). My wonderful friends have encouraged me not to make changes and to post it as it was originally written.

**Azriel**

Cassian half-dragged me through the corridors, gripping my arm tightly, until we’d made our way to the guest wing. We had been granted adjoining chambers, as we typically requested in any foreign court if we visited together. He swung the door open and practically shoved me inside.

I’d been feeling a low, smoldering mix of anger and jealousy from him since I’d joined in on the banter with Helion, and it had felt a bit like playing with fire. Now, I realized, I would find out if I was about to get burned.

He pulled the door shut softly behind him - having enough presence of mind not to slam it - and I heard the click of the lock as I turned to face him, letting a bit of the wickedness I felt show on my face. As I took in his expression, though, that smoldering anger raged into a bonfire and I swallowed hard, all playfulness gone. That last part, when Helion had touched my face... that had been too far.

He seemed to be waging an internal battle and losing. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and his face was a portrait of angry disbelief. I could see the muscles ripple beneath the skin of his arms and he was practically quivering in place. I tried to focus on the bond - tried to send soothing shadows and peace to him while frantically trying to sort through the emotions that just barely peeked through beneath the anger.

I felt an abrupt shift in him, like flipping a switch, and all that tumultuous fury changed to something hard and predatory. He lunged for me, gripped me by my biceps, and whirled, pinning me to the wall. Only my quick reflexes kept my head from slamming into the stone and I’d barely had time to flare my wings, preventing them from being trapped behind me. It was still a vulnerable position to be in, but having my wings out could provide more leverage against the wall, should I need it.

He got right in my face, snarling softly. Dangerously. “What the fuck was that?” His voice was rough but too detached. I searched his face with wide eyes. This wasn’t Cassian, this was Enalius in the flesh.

“Cassian, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I took that too far. But… well, next time, don’t start that shit.” He blinked at the hint of challenge in my tone, but damn him, he had to know I was right.

His eyes blazed into mine from beneath his lowered brows. “Do you want him, Azriel?” he asked, quiet and deadly.

“I said I was sorry.”

“That’s not a ‘ _no’_.”

“Cassian-”

He surged forward, up against me, his body pressing me harder into the wall. His lips crashed into mine, stealing the words, and I could’ve sworn I felt the floor tilting beneath my feet. He snatched my jaw in his hand, gripping me tightly, and his lips molded to mine. His other hand found its way into my hair and he threaded it through his fingers before gripping his fist and tugging, angling my chin up slightly. I felt a new kind of inferno through the bond that mirrored the one rising inside me.

I groaned against his lips and he wasted no time deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth and pulling me tighter against him. I knew he must be able to feel my body responding because he ground his hips into me, creating some delicious friction, and I gasped a hissing breath through my teeth, breaking the kiss. I could swear I felt the bond shining a little bit brighter.

I was dimly aware that my split lip burned and throbbed, and I knew it would be bleeding again soon - if it wasn’t already. He tugged at the roots of my hair again, tilting my chin up higher to gain access to my neck, a low sound of objection rumbling in his throat. I needed to say something-

He pressed firm kisses to the corner of my jaw, beneath my ear, atop the pulse point on the side of my neck. Here he paused, nipping his teeth lightly, and I swallowed another groan, forcing myself to stay still when my body tried to arch into him. His lips were on mine again before I could speak, stealing my breath and setting the room back to spinning, though I was pressed so hard against the wall I knew I wasn’t moving. And I kissed him back, letting my hands roam over his shoulders, his hair, and down his sides. They drifted to his hips and settled into the slight hollows there between his muscles, and I ignored my objections for just a little longer. This felt both right and wrong, at the same time, and I knew I had to stop it before it went any further.

I broke away from him, panting, and his chest heaved against mine. I looked deep into those burning hazel eyes to find them wide with desire, and said the last thing I really wanted to say in that moment.

“Stop, Cass.” 

He went perfectly still. My emotions were so jumbled it was hard to think, but I knew if this went any further we could potentially do something irrevocable. And he had only known about the bond since _yesterday_. I couldn’t let him do this. I held his gaze, steeled myself, and asked, “Do you accept the mating bond, then?” The ritual with the food meant fuck-all, besides tradition. If we did this, tonight, there would be no going back.

He stepped back from me as quickly as he’d lunged for me in the first place, and the loss of his body heat left me feeling cold. I sagged against the wall. A pulse of tangled feelings came through to me, but I was too scattered to pick them apart. He raked his fingers back through his hair, which I was surprised to realize was loose, the cord that had bound it likely somewhere on the floor.

We stood there staring at each other, breathing hard, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute. Cassian’s feelings were all over the place, and I knew mine were, too. He looked stricken, but I couldn’t tell enough to know what to say or do.

He held my stare until he turned to head for the door, steps heavy. He grasped the handle, looking back at me for just a moment, before he flicked the lock open and slipped through into the hall, letting it snick shut behind him. As that click sounded, too loud in the silent room, the bond suddenly vanished. 

I couldn’t breathe. I clutched at my chest, tugging on the material of my shirt, and slowly sank to my knees on the plush, layered rugs. It felt like I was being crushed. I had felt something of the bond on and off for most of my life, and compared to how brightly it had been glowing for the past day, the past few minutes especially, the absence was physically painful. 

He had frayed my sanity, searing me with his kiss, and this shift was too much too fast. I curled into myself, clutching my chest as though I could will the bond back into existence within me. I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how he could simply be _gone_ . _Could this be what it feels like when the bond is rejected?_ I hadn’t had anyone to ask about that part.

I had told him to stop. I was suddenly, irrationally terrified and very, very alone. When I felt the tears coming, I let them fall. I knelt there, huddling against the wall where he had just undone me. Where we had…

I wrapped my shadows around myself as though they could hold me together, as though they could block out the roaring in my ears, and I lost track of how long I knelt there, tears dripping into the carpet, collapsing in on myself. 

* * *

**Cassian**

I just kept fucking everything up.

I didn’t know where I was going; there wasn’t really anywhere else _for_ me to go except back to our rooms, but I couldn’t face Azriel yet and I needed to keep moving. I wandered through the halls trying to sort through my thoughts, a small corner of my mind keeping track of the path I was making through the palace. 

I was such a gods-damned bastard. By the time I had practically dragged him out of Helion’s private sitting room I had felt like someone else was occupying my body. Some deep, primal part of me engaged, jealous and wrathful, when I had seen Helion’s eyes glazing in lust while he was looking at _my_ mate. When he had touched _my mate_ and had fucking healed an injury that _I_ had caused.

Mother above - that had been our first kiss, a few minutes ago, and I had slammed him against the wall like a brute and forced myself on him. I had tasted his blood when my fevered kiss had reopened his split lip - the one _I had given him_ \- and the taste of my mate’s blood had called to my soul. I had wanted him so, so badly in that moment. But he told me to stop.

And he had been right. If I thought I had hated myself that day after Morrigan had been rescued, it paled a little in comparison to how much I despised myself right now. Yesterday I had hit my mate in the face _,_ I had avoided talking to him about what we would do with the bond, and now I’d pulled this shit.

As I had left the room, I’d masked the bond. I hadn’t known exactly what I was doing, but I had been desperate for some privacy and some space to think. I knew it could be done, and I’d pictured that shining thread in my chest, imagining I wrapped something around it to block the light. The bond had gone silent.

Now, as I tried very hard not to stomp through the quiet hallways, I sorted through my thoughts. I could do a hell of a lot worse than to have my lifelong best friend turn out to be my mate; Rhys’s mother and father were proof of that. And though I hadn’t considered Azriel as a possible romantic or sexual partner until yesterday, my reaction this evening to his flirting with Helion was telling me a lot about my own jumbled feelings. 

He had shocked me back to sanity when he’d asked if I was accepting the bond. It wasn’t that I planned to reject him, but I’d had so little time to process everything that I had once again panicked, choosing to run away from the problem just like I had yesterday. I was a piss poor mate, not to mention a shitty friend.

It had felt so right - just that afternoon - to awaken in his arms, in his bed. I hadn’t been able to resist asking to do the Death Dive with him; it had always looked like fun. And it’s not like I couldn’t have had the same experience at any time, but there had been something about the way he went through the motions each day that told me it held some type of significance for him. I made a mental note to ask him about it sometime.

Now we were back at the crux of the issue for the second time in as many days: What are we going to do about this? More specifically, what was I planning to do about it? Azriel hadn’t said as much, but he seemed willing to accept the bond. I definitely should have asked him before forcing myself on him and kissing him like that, though. I mentally cursed myself again.

I knew, deep down, that I was going to accept the bond, too. But damn it, the whole thing with Nesta was so fresh and this new information about Azriel, about myself, was so overwhelming. It felt like whiplash. Two weeks ago, I was imagining my future with someone else. It was just a lot to fucking deal with. That was no excuse for hurting Az, though. Again.

I decided it was time to go back and face the music, and I realized with some surprise that I was already turning into the hallway that led to our adjoining rooms. The corner of my mind that was tracking my direction had apparently realized I was going back to Azriel before I had realized it. I still didn’t know exactly what I was going to say to him, but I could start with an apology.

I opened the door slowly, and at first I didn’t see him. He was huddled on the floor wrapped in shadows, right where I left him, unmoving. Confused, I unmasked the bond to try to read his emotions, and pain barreled into me so hard I took an involuntary step back. 

Azriel gasped, his shadows retreating a bit, and I could see he was clutching his chest, head bowed over his knees. He looked up slowly, focusing on my face. “It’s back,” he gasped out. My strong, unbreakable mate’s eyes were red and there were tear tracks on his face. Combined with the agony I was feeling through the bond, it was enough to break my heart. I crossed the few steps to him and dropped to my knees so hard it hurt, even with the cushioning from the carpets. 

“Az-” I started to reach for one of his hands where it was clutched to his chest, but I stopped myself. “Azriel, what happened?” I knew I had been a bastard, but I couldn’t have imagined this reaction.

Two fresh tears escaped from his eyes to follow those tracks down his face. “It was gone. You were gone…” he took a deep, shuddering breath, starting to pull himself together with a visible effort. “I thought… I thought you might have rejected the bond. And after you just…” Another pair of tears fell, and I resolved in that moment that whatever else happened next, I would never again be the cause of those tears. I had never seen Az anywhere near this distraught, and I hated that it was my fault.

I banished my caution and I reached for him, gently prying his fingers from his shirt and wrapping his scarred hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Az. I’m so gods-damned sorry. I masked the bond.” He blinked, a little light returning to his eyes.

“I didn’t even think of that,” he said slowly. “I know it can be done, but how did you do it? How did you _know_ how to do it?”

“I wanted privacy, but I didn’t know whether it would work. I imagined I was wrapping something around the bond, kind of like a blanket, to cover it up.” I grimaced. “If I had felt how upset you were, I would’ve come back.”

He huffed a little, uncurling until he was sitting on his heels. I could tell through the bond that he was embarrassed to show so much emotion, and that was my fault, too. “Can we get up off the floor?” I asked. He nodded, starting to release my hands, and I gripped them a little tighter. I helped him stand, knees cracking, and released one hand so I could turn and lead him through the suite. I took a quick, perfunctory glance in each room, but the beds were the same size.

“Pick one,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow. He inclined his head toward the room we were currently standing closest to, and I led him inside. I walked him to the bed and tugged his hand, urging him to sit at the edge. He sank down slowly, looking wary, but he didn’t object. Collecting his other hand, I knelt before him and looked up into wide hazel eyes.

“I am so deeply sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I swallowed, still holding his gaze. “I shouldn’t have done half the shit I’ve done for the past two days-” I broke off as his face fell. _Damn it, Az, why do you have to assume the worst about everything?_ I squeezed his hands a little tighter. “I _meant_ the punching, and the territorial bullshit, and… and the kissing.” 

“You’re sorry for the kissing?” he asked a little sadly.

“Yes, I’m sorry for the kissing.”

“I liked the kissing,” he murmured quietly.

“Fucking hell, Az, that was our first kiss and I slammed you against the wall and made your lip bleed! I didn’t even give you a choice.” And that was the part that made me hate myself the most. Even if he had seemed like he might want me to, that wasn’t the same thing. I fought the urge to get up and pace. I felt like I needed to be moving again, but I had promised myself I was going to do better, damn it.

He finally broke our stare, looking down at our clasped hands. He seemed conflicted about something, and the bond was mostly quiet, with a hint of apprehension.

“I enjoyed that, Cass. The few males I’ve been with… well, lets just say I was always the dominant partner.” That didn’t surprise me, but it did make me wonder exactly how this was going to work, as it seemed that both of our experience had been similar in that regard. He continued, “I really liked the way you kissed me. And-” He took a long, slow breath, “I liked the pain. I like pain. Sometimes. But only with females - at least until tonight.”

I followed his gaze to where his hands rested in mine and felt nauseous. Azriel had strong hands, with long graceful fingers. They had probably been beautiful hands before his sick fucking half-brothers had decided to maim him. I had been a soldier for my entire life and I’m all too familiar with trauma responses. Pain that he can control, and only with partners who can’t remind him of his brothers? Check and check.

“Look, I know I’m fucked up, okay? I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.” He halfheartedly tugged at his hands again and I squeezed them lightly, still not letting go. I raised my eyes back to his face to find him already staring back at me.

“I know my behavior from the past two days will make this sound ridiculous, but I really don’t like the idea of hurting you. That’s why I left the cabin yesterday and that’s why I left this suite tonight. It repulses me.”

“You didn’t hurt me. It was… well, it was hot.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re referring to the punching at the cabin, because I can’t do that again even if you liked it.”

I was treated to that deep, genuine laugh of his again - the one I had only just heard for the first time the previous night. He brought himself under control quickly, little gasps punctuated by wheezing, and the mirth remained, dancing in his eyes. “I was definitely- referring to- the kissing,” he managed, between little chuckles. There was a hint of hysteria edging his laugh, and I knew this evening had been too emotionally taxing.

“Well, I can play a little rough, but I don’t think- no, I _know_ that I can’t hurt you. Not anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” he said, simply.

I sighed. “I’m not rejecting the bond, Az. Mother above, you’ve been my closest friend since we were children. This is just a lot to take in within the span of two days. I just need a little time. Can we do that?”

He treated me to a small smile. “Yeah, we can do that. Can you do me a favor, though?”

“It depends on the favor,” I hedged. He sighed.

“Can you please _not_ encourage Helion tomorrow? Or ever? I didn’t enjoy your little display any better than you liked my joining in.” And once again, I felt like an ass. I hadn’t apologized for that part; I had been so caught up in the fact that I had practically forced myself on him.

“I may be stupid sometimes Az, but I’m not that stupid.” I returned his smile. “Come on, let’s try to get some sleep.”

I stood and walked to the bureau, retrieving two pairs of light cotton sleeping pants from a drawer. Helion’s palace staff maintained some standard wardrobes for members of allied courts, and the way they knew what sizes to provide, from which wardrobes, to which guest rooms, was practically its own type of mysterious magic. 

They had not provided sleeping shirts, however. I handed him a pair of the pants trying not to look too chagrined, and left him alone in the bedroom to undress. I stepped into the adjoining bathing chamber to change and splash some water on my face. I combed my hair and cleaned my teeth while I was at it, and then returned to the bedroom. I expected Az to need a turn in the bathing room himself, but he was already in the large bed with the covers turned back.

He must have sensed something from me, because he smiled and said “I used the other bathing room,” and jerked his thumb toward the door. 

“Can I send your clothing to the laundry with mine?” In addition to the other clothing services, the palace also had a miraculous system for doing laundry. Az nodded, pointing to a chair against the wall upon which he had placed his neatly folded clothes. I grabbed them, heading back into the bathing chamber one last time, and dropped them into the small chute in the wall. The laundry staff would be up before dawn, and either these outfits or similar ones from the palace wardrobes would be waiting in a drawer by the time we awoke tomorrow. _Or later today,_ I mused, _since it must be past midnight._

“Thank you,” he said, as I returned to the room. I walked toward the bed, trying to look self-assured and likely failing miserably. Unlike the night before, this time we were both half-naked. The space between us was growing more charged the closer I came to him, and I stopped when my shins were touching the bed frame. “Are you tugging the bond right now?” I asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

His brows twitched. “No, I was wondering the same about you,” he said. “But I feel it, too.”

I slid between the crisp, clean sheets and scooted over toward the center of the bed. It was a little larger than Azriel’s in the House of Wind, but it still wasn’t large enough to keep my wings from curling over the side of the mattress. The faelights dimmed and winked out, the magic of the rooms sensing what was needed, and we were plunged into darkness. 

My breaths sounded too loud in the silent room, and he was laying as far away from me as he had the night before - which was to say, not very far. The minutes dragged on, the tension growing so strong it felt like it could snap, and I could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep either. I shifted a couple of inches closer to him and tried to keep my own breaths steady as I waited to see if he would react. After what felt like an agonizingly long pause, he shifted a little closer too, shrinking that gap between us. 

That was as much of a sign as I needed from him and I reached out in the darkness, wrapping my arm around to press my hand against his lower back and pull him toward me. He melted against my bare chest bonelessly as I fitted him against me, tucking his head under my chin this time. The feeling of his warm, smooth skin against mine was intoxicating and it felt like I was tingling everywhere we touched.

I had the sense that he needed to be comforted after this shit show of an evening, and it was pointless to resist the magnetism; it would just draw us together once we eventually fell asleep, anyway. I wrapped my arms around him and felt some of my tension easing, as expected. 

What I didn’t expect was to be able to fall asleep so quickly, having only been awake since late afternoon. It didn’t take long before Azriel’s breathing evened out, the bond going completely quiet, and I laid there feeling his warm breaths tickle across my chest. I focused on the rhythm, matching my breaths to his without realizing what I was doing, and I slipped into peaceful sleep not long after.


	10. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helion, Azriel, and Cassian return to the Hewn City to try to rescue Eris, and in the process they learn some of Keir's new powers.

**Azriel**

_I was back in that forest on the eastern border of the Summer Court. Hybern’s soldiers had known we were coming. I’d scouted our route myself and it was at least partly my fault that I hadn’t realized they were prepared for us. They crashed against us in the valley, arrows flying, soldiers going down on both sides with screams of agony._

_Our lines were breaking apart and I could hear Cassian bellowing over the din and shriek of battle. ‘Push, PUSH! Hold that line!’ I swung my blade in sweeping arcs with arms that had already gone numb, angling for that voice at the front line. ‘FIX IT, GODS DAMN YOU,’ he bellowed at Keir, who managed to rally his Darkbringers to press back against the enemy._

_Rain began to pour from the sky and my boots slipped over blood and mud and gore. I pushed harder, my siphons dark and power already expended. Cassian couldn’t be in much better shape and I had to find him to protect his back. This was bad. I cut down one after another, not really seeing their faces, blinking the falling drops from my eyes._

_‘CAVALRY!’_

_‘Cassian, WAIT!’ Rhys’s roared command cut through the chaos._

_I saw Cassian break from the fighting, wings propelling him up and over the front line to crash into the midst of the charging enemy, blade already swinging before he landed._ Fuck _. He’d barely had the power to shield for that jump, siphons only faintly glowing._

_A flash of gold from the corner of my eye and Mor was there, blocking a blow that had been aiming for my side, hair plastered to her head by the rain. I met her eyes briefly before turning away, sword singing, trusting her to stay at my back. With her help, we plowed through the lines toward that bellowing voice._

_I lost sight of him then, and couldn’t hear him, but somehow I felt like I knew where to go. I broke through just in time to see the Hybern commander’s sword slam into his gut, ripping up to his sternum._

_‘NO!’_

_I was there in an instant, dispatching the commander and grabbing Cassian, feeling his blood wash over my hands as I held his stomach together. I was screaming, screaming for Mor to help me, screaming at the pain I swore I could practically feel in my own abdomen. My hands were the only thing keeping his guts inside. She was there, hauling us away, blade swinging as she shrieked at the soldiers around us to cover our retreat._

_‘Azriel…’_

_A glint of steel in the corner of my eye, and a blade was swinging for his neck. He looked up at me, his face ashen-_

“Azriel!” Cassian’s voice sounded frightened. My eyes snapped open to find him kneeling over me, gently shaking my shoulders. My darkness whirled around us. “Az, I’m here. You’re safe. You’re in the Day Court.” 

_He’s safe._

I spooled in my shadows slowly, one breath at a time, and the bright light of late morning illuminated the room. Cassian looked alert; his hair was combed and he had already dressed. I scrubbed my face with my rough hands, trying to clear the blinding panic and the fog of nightmares from my mind. I could still feel the phantom pain in my stomach. _His_ stomach. My mouth and throat were dry, but it didn’t feel like I had actually been screaming, so that was a small blessing.

He stretched out next to me, gathering me against him, and ran a soothing hand up and down my arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding regretful. “I went to the bathing room and I figured I would let you sleep a little longer while I got dressed.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but do you have nightmares often?”

“No. Sometimes I have those too-clear dreams I told you about, and every once in a while I have a dream about the wars. But no, I don’t have an unusual amount of nightmares. Not for a few centuries now, at least.”

He hummed thoughtfully and I felt it rumble his chest. “Any idea why you would have one now?”

I debated how much I wanted to tell him. “I suspect it’s just nerves about tonight.” I sensed skepticism through the bond, but decided to change the subject. “Why are you already up and dressed?” _Why didn’t you stay with me?_

“I didn’t let you finish eating last night and I was going to go search up some breakfast. If I’m hungry, you must be starving.” 

“Oh.” That was… really thoughtful. 

“Now I wish I had just stayed in bed until you woke up. Do you want me to stay with you, or do you want me to go get food? I can bring it back here…”

I could use a few minutes to finish pulling myself together, and he was right to assume I was starving. Now that he mentioned it, and I focused on it, my stomach ached from more than the echoes of the dream. “Breakfast would be great. Thank you.” It felt strange to be with Cassian like this. Good, but strange. I wasn’t sure how to talk to him now; should I act like I always had before, or should I treat him as a lover? Something in between?

I had the sense that he was reluctant to leave me as he slid from the bed, but he went off in search of sustenance and I made my way into the bathing room. My nightmare couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but cold sweat was drying on my chest and back, and the cotton sleep pants were damp. I shucked them off and into the laundry chute in the wall, and then ran a quick, hot bath. I didn’t take my time to relax, I just scrubbed myself clean and let the water erase the sweaty feeling from my skin. 

I re-entered the room slowly, with nothing but a towel slung around my hips, but I hadn’t heard him return and a quick glance confirmed that I was still alone. I pulled open the bureau drawer to find my clothes from yesterday already cleaned and neatly folded, and I tugged them on quickly, saying a silent _thank you_ to the palace staff. 

When he returned, carrying a large and heavily-laden tray of food, I was waiting in the sitting room of our suite. We ate in comfortable silence, both too hungry and too intent on our breakfasts to try to carry a conversation. When there was nothing left but scraps, we decided we would spend the day in the city that sprawled around the palace and enjoy the warmer Day Court weather. 

We walked the cobbled streets, between the buildings of granite, marble, and more sandstone. The Day Court had been brutalized during Amarantha’s reign, and many buildings and some entire streets bore the evidence. The city was rebuilding though, and much progress had already been accomplished in the past year. 

We visited a few shops - though we didn’t buy anything - and had lunch on the sunny patio of a restaurant. We alternated between halting conversation and equally awkward silence, and I knew we could both feel the same uncertainty through the bond. 

I had an idea while we were eating, though, and after lunch I told Cassian I needed to go back to Velaris for a couple of hours before we were scheduled to meet Helion for dinner. 

“You have something to do that can’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked quizzically.

“Yeah, just a little something I need to see to,” I hedged, hoping he wouldn’t pry. I wanted to surprise him. He let the silence hang, as though waiting for me to offer to bring him with me.

“Okay…” he finally said, drawing the word out suspiciously. “I’ll just do a little more looking around here and meet you back at the palace for dinner.” I sensed a little disappointment through the bond, and felt a pang of guilt. Hopefully he would understand later.

Trying to ignore that little knot of disappointment, I gave him a small smile and walked away, heading toward the mouth of an alley where I could winnow more discreetly. I chanced a look back over my shoulder, and the last thing I saw before winnowing away was Cassian, standing right where I’d left him, watching me go.

Back in Velaris, I made quick work of tracking Feyre down and enlisting her help. We headed into the city and she led me to the shops she’d suggested. Within two hours, we had made all the arrangements. I knew Feyre was a little confused by all of this, but my generous High Lady asked very few questions. As I prepared to winnow back to the Day Court for dinner, she gave me a bright smile and assured me that she would finish taking care of everything.

* * *

At midnight, as planned, we met Helion in that same receiving hall where we had arrived the previous day. There was no young messenger monitoring the room tonight, and the halls had been silent and still on our way to the meeting place. Helion’s subtle glow was absent, thankfully, and he stood calm and proud in the middle of the space.

“Are you ready?” I asked him quietly. I felt foolish for whispering, but it felt wrong to break the stillness of the palace.

“Let’s go,” he replied, equally quietly, and he and Cassian each grasped one of my hands. Helion could’ve winnowed himself, of course, but we had agreed to conserve his energy. I folded the darkness around us, and we emerged a few heartbeats later at the foot of the mountain that contained the Hewn City, just outside the wards. I immediately cloaked us with a different kind of darkness, and we made our way to the edge of the shields.

Helion reached out to touch the invisible line in the air where I knew the wards began, and his eyes unfocused. We were close enough that my shadows could sense the barrier but, unlike Helion, I couldn’t do anything to pierce them. They recoiled from the magic though, and I had an impression of _wrongness_.

Cassian was tense beside me, clutching my hand a little tighter than necessary, and I knew it was hard for him to stand here in the open, cloaking shadows or no. He practically thrummed with energy and the need to be moving. There were guards who patrolled around the mountain but we had determined that there was no reliable way to predict what their rotation or routes might be. Keir was smart enough to have rescheduled the patrols so we would lose an advantage.

When Helion’s eyes refocused, he hissed through his teeth. “There are layers upon layers of wards here. Some of them are old - very old - but others are… fresh.” He searched for the right words. “Fresh, but ancient, somehow. And I can sense more of the same shields inside the mountain. I suspect you’re right about Keir having gained access to one of Hybern’s spell books. I need to get inside to be able to sense the ones deeper in toward the center.”

“Can you get us through?” I asked in a whisper. We would deal with the implications of _that_ later.

“I can, but it will take considerably more time to separate the fresh shields from the older ones.”

“Don’t bother. Just shred them.” Both Cassian and Helion looked a little disbelieving at that, but I didn’t care. Eris was the priority. “Will that make it faster?”

“It will take more power, but yes, it will be faster.” Helion rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. “On your mark, Spymaster.”

I squeezed both their hands a little tighter. “Do it.”

My shadows concealed the flare of white light as Helion dissolved the first set of wards, and I immediately winnowed us to the door a few dozen feet away. My shadows could sense the ancient magic - recoiled from it.

Another flash of light. Winnow. We were inside the mountain.

“The underground palace,” Helion whispered, eyes unfocused again. “There are concentric shields throughout the mountain, with the center inside that palace.” I nodded. We would either find Eris, Keir, or both, when we reached the center. I didn’t believe for one second that Eris would still be in the dungeons where we last saw him.

Now that we had confirmed the direction, we were able to move faster. I could only sense the outermost shield at any given time, but this allowed me to winnow us to the edges with accuracy. This was the plan: winnow, cleave, winnow, cleave, as fast as we possibly could, with Cassian here to watch our backs, and as a reserve of killing power should anything go wrong. Our goal was _not_ to engage anyone but, given where we were headed, that was looking unlikely. I sent up a silent prayer for Cassian’s safety.

Flash of light. Winnow. Light. Winnow.

A hard squeeze of Helion’s hand around mine, and we paused in the darkened throne room of polished ebony. The massive twin thrones adorned with twisting serpentine beasts cast deeper shadows across the dais, and we stood wrapped within them as Helion cast his senses out, seeking the center.

“It’s Keir’s suite,” Helion said finally, in resignation. It was no surprise, really. _So much for getting in and out unnoticed._

We stopped outside the master suite that had been inhabited by Keir and his wife for longer than I’d been alive. “Fuck,” Cassian muttered, and I was inclined to agree. We couldn’t afford the time or the possible noise to discuss our options, though. Eris was likely in this suite and we were hopefully minutes away from getting out of this wretched mountain. Light flared from Helion one last time, and I winnowed us across the threshold, into the antechamber on the other side of the door.

I had been in Keir’s chambers before, but the austere dark stone and lack of decoration always made my hackles rise. My eyes went immediately to the inner bedroom door, but it was closed. My shadows whispered, and I snapped my head around to see what Cassian and Helion were already staring at, wide-eyed.

Eris hung from chained wrists against a wall, bare feet a few inches from the floor. I could see from here that they were made of the same gods-damned bluish stone that we were all too familiar with by now. He wore nothing but thin cotton trousers, and I suppressed a shudder as I thought about how cold it must be against that wall, with the unforgiving stone leeching away the heat his body tried to generate. His head hung limply and that shaggy, bright hair obscured most of his face. What little I could see was mottled with bruises. His chest was a mass of thin cuts and scars; rivulets of blood had trickled from a few and dried on his skin.

I recognized the interrogation tactic - interrogation or _persuasion_ \- and had used it myself. You couldn’t hang a prisoner from his arms indefinitely, though, or he would eventually drown as fluid filled his lungs. He was breathing too shallowly and too slowly. _Keir doesn’t have the experience to do this properly, and Eris would have asphyxiated, mistake or no._ The stone chain around his wrists had prevented him from using any of his power, and from the wet sounds his breaths were making, he wouldn’t have lived to see the sunrise. I didn’t know what the hell Keir wanted from him badly enough to go to such lengths, but I was grateful to whatever twist of fate had brought us here just in time. I hated Eris, but we needed him.

I motioned to Cassian and he crossed the space to Eris, hissing as he touched those chains, hand jerking back involuntarily. I knew they would feel bitingly cold and fundamentally _wrong._ The moment his fingers touched the bluish stone, our siphons shimmered in warning. Something was coming; something powerful and old.

“Hurry,” I growled at Cassian, unsheathing the sword from my back. I met Helion’s eyes and he nodded confirmation and unspoken agreement; he still had enough reserve power to defend himself. His own weapon materialized in his hand, and Helion crouched slightly, bringing his gleaming sword into a guard position. Shoulder to shoulder, we stood between that power and the prisoner we came to save.

Through the bond, I could feel how the unnatural stone caused Cassian’s stomach to clench, but he made quick work of the chains, using one arm to support Eris’s weight and unwrapping the loops with the other. We backed toward them, blades held at the ready, preparing to winnow them out. Once Eris was freed, Cass caught him under the arms as he fell. My mate supported the unconscious male and looked to me just as we all felt that ancient power unfurling into the room. 

The golden-haired male appeared in the now-open doorway to the bedroom. He had a book in one hand and the other was extended toward us, the air around that hand warping as though from extreme heat. I knew his scraping and simpering before Rhys had always been an act, but I had never seen Keir stand so tall, so confident in his power. I had never seen this look in his eyes.

Cruel triumph shone on his face, and that warping power pulsed from his hand, through the room. My body went rigid. My shadows, my quiet, steady friends, went silent and still. They locked around me, immobilizing me, and pure terror bloomed low and deep in my gut. My shadows… I alone was their master. _My_ _shadows_ … 

A heartbeat after the shadows turned on me, the pain struck. 

It barreled through me, power like liquid fire searing through my veins, blazing into my heart, and my back arched from the agony of it. The shadows squeezed me tighter, power burning into my bones, and I tried to scream but no sound emerged. I was bound so tightly the rending scream was locked in my throat. My siphons flared with light that was not light, somehow; sparkling black limned with violet. 

It was worse than my half-brothers. Worse than the searing agony of my hands as they blistered and cracked over the brazier that was meant to warm their beds. Worse than the open flames from the fireplace where they would force me to my knees, hands bathed in oil. It was inside every part of me, searing and boiling. It was so much worse.

Cassian started screaming, then, a sound of terror and agony, dropping Eris to the hard floor, and I caught the glint of silver as he drew his own sword. I tried to mask the bond, to spare him the echoes of this torment that I knew he must be feeling, but I couldn’t do it. The darkness I tried to wrap around that shining light inside slipped away again and again, like water through my fingers.

My power was being sucked from me, flowing out through my siphons like the light in a void, and from the corner of my eye I saw something that nearly stopped my frantic, burning heart.

Cassian’s shadow, where it was cast against the stone wall, began to writhe. I strained to shift my eyes to better see what was happening, unable to turn my head, hardly able to think through the pain. His shadow coalesced, gaining depth and shape as it pulled itself from the wall and into the room. Cassian’s eyes went wide and snapped to me, locking onto my face. 

I couldn’t scream for him to run. Time seemed to slow as his eyes bored into mine, and I threw every scrap of my will at the traitorous shadows that bound me, trying to force out three words. Just three words, through vocal cords that had frozen solid, and praying he could read them in my eyes when I failed. 

_Get Eris out._

But he didn’t have a chance. His shadow, blurry and ephemeral, held a dark twin to his long Illyrian blade, and it struck, forcing Cassian to step back in surprise as he blocked the blow. Solid Illyrian steel met its translucent, shadowy twin, and the blades clanged together with a sound like a hand-bell ringing. The shadow moved with the same deadly, perfect grace as Cassian himself and my mate conceded another step backward, swiping at the shadow’s torso.

The steel blade passed through the body as if it were made of smoke. Somehow, only the weapon was corporeal. The shadow sword arced for Cassian again, and he parried, countering with a riposte, and took a step to the side, prowling, trying to circle the shadow creature to reach me. Leaving Eris behind, prone, on the floor. 

The sound of another bell ringing on my other side forced me to tear my attention from Cassian’s deadly dance, and I rolled my eyes to see Helion struggling with his own shadow, blades clashing. My legs gave out with no warning, pitching me onto my knees and bringing Keir abruptly into my field of vision. 

The power warped the air all around him now, a rippling aura distorting the edges of his body, and his face looked rapturous; as though my agony were his pleasure. White light flared from Helion, and that rapturous expression dimmed, just a fraction. Another flash of light, and Keir’s eyes refocused, locking onto the High Lord. A flicker of doubt.

Cassian yelped in pain, and I rolled my eyes back to see him clutching a gash in his thigh, the shadow creature still between us, my mate’s blood dripping from it’s sword. Panic flooded me so strongly that it rivaled the burning in my veins. Real fear was painted in every line of Cassian’s face, flowing through the bond, and I knew it was not fear for himself. 

I slammed my will against the treasonous shadows again and again, railing at my helplessness, at my power being used as though I were a mere conduit. A weapon.

Pure white light seared through the room, so bright I was blinded. So bright I could see the outlines of the room through my eyelids. Like a star had fallen right into our midst beneath this mountain to burn us to ash. 

Keir shrieked, and I felt Helion slam into me where I knelt, tackling me hard into the stone with enough force to throw us, sliding, across the floor.

I felt an unholy ripping sensation deep, deep in my soul, tearing my remaining power from me in a surge like a bursting dam. I felt reality fold around me, spinning and whipping me into the space between worlds, and a final burst of fiery torment exploded through every cell in my body. 

And then I knew only darkness, and nothing more.


	11. Shadowsinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They managed to get into the Hewn City to retrieve Eris, but will there be a cost? The Inner Circle discusses the ramifications of Keir's power and Cassian comes face to face with his feelings.

**Cassian**

I crashed into the polished sandstone floor of the Day Court palace and my thigh screamed in protest, but that hardly mattered. I felt a moment of stark panic before I sensed Azriel nearby, the bond quiet and still. The blinding white light was gone, and as soon as that fact registered, I popped my eyes open. 

Helion was shifting, beginning to push himself to his feet from our sprawled position on the floor, the four of us having landed in a heap. Though I’d had to squeeze my eyes shut or risk being blinded, I’d felt him slam into Azriel, had sensed them sliding from the force of it to bowl into Eris and me, sweeping my feet from under me. I’d only completed half my fall to the ground before we were winnowing. 

My eyes went straight to Azriel, and I crawled to him, not caring what Helion saw or thought. He hadn’t moved. The bond was too still - _too_ quiet. 

He wasn’t breathing.

I lunged for his neck, pressing my fingers to his pulse-point and placing my other hand on his chest, over his heart. _Please, Gods, please no._

His heart wasn’t beating. The bond was there in my chest though; I could feel it. I wrapped myself around it, trying to hold it, willing him to stay.

“Help him!” I screamed at Helion. When he didn’t move, I tore my eyes from Azriel’s beautiful face, and shrieked again in a voice I barely recognized as my own. “Heal him! Helion, please…” My voice broke at the devastation on the High Lord’s face. “I can still feel him, he isn’t gone! Please!” 

“I can barely heal a bruise, Cassian,” he said softly, painfully gently, and the blood roared in my ears. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.

I fisted my hands together in the center of my mate’s chest, and I started to pump. _One, two, three, four, five…_ I threw my body weight into it, and every ounce of my will. At the count of thirty, I tipped his head back, pinching his nose, and sealed my mouth tightly over his, forcing the air into his still lungs; forcing his chest to rise once… twice…

I resumed the chest compressions, and my vision blurred. 

_One, two, three-_

I blinked the tears free and let them fall, keeping my eyes locked on his face. I had asked him for time.

_Four, five-_

The golden tether in my chest began to fray. I clutched at it, trying to wrap my soul more tightly around his, and keep him here, with me.

_Six, seven, eight-_

Please, Gods, _no._ Let me take his place.

_Nine, ten-_

Azriel gasped, chest rising under my hands, and I choked on my sob. The frayed edges of the bond snapped back into place, and I shuddered with relief. He drew another breath, and another, but the bond was still too quiet and he didn’t open his eyes.

I turned to Helion and saw realization and understanding on his face. I didn’t care. “Get us to Madja!” I shouted at him, and he finally jerked into motion as though snapping out of a trance. He surely had his own healers, but he didn’t ask any questions. I might have tried to kill him if he’d hesitated. Bending down, he grasped Eris’s hand - I had forgotten that prick even existed - and gripped my shoulder.

Helion winnowed us directly into Madja’s house, and I heard a gasp and clatter as we materialized. The dark-skinned woman was awake, despite the hour, sitting at a small work table covered in medical supplies. Her eyes widened further as she took in the four of us, and she rose from her chair with surprising ease that belied the lines on her face.

Her eyes flicked from Azriel to Eris and back, and her steps were quick as she approached us and knelt between them. Helion clasped my shoulders and started pulling me, gently but firmly, away from Azriel. I struggled, but his grip tightened as he hauled me back to give the healer space. 

Her brow furrowed as she laid a hand upon each of them, and I knew her magic was delving into them, assessing the extent of their injuries. She removed her hand from Azriel, turning her body and her focus toward Eris, and I growled at her, the sound ripping up through my lips from deep in my chest. 

She spoke to me without looking in our direction, “This one needs me first. Azriel is stable. You can move him to a cot.”

I slumped in Helion’s grasp, and it helped keep me on my feet. Now that I could think a little through the panic, I could hear that Eris’s rasping breaths were more uneven than before, and he was making a wet sucking sound as he struggled for air. Helion’s hands fell away from me as I stepped to my mate’s side, crouching down and gathering his limp form into my arms. I cradled him against my chest, bowing my head over him, and sent another prayer into the sky. 

I stood with him and carried him to a cot, careful not to let his drooping wings drag on the floor. I laid him down with utmost care and knelt beside him, gripping his hand in both of mine. My eyes were locked onto his face. I sent him every iota of strength and determination that I could muster, trying to force it into his body through our bond. She’d said he was stable, but that didn’t mean he would stay that way. I was completely alert and wholly focused on him; on every breath he took. I didn’t count them, I just waited between each one terrified that another wouldn’t come after.

I don’t know how long I knelt there while Madja worked on Eris on the floor, but eventually she came to the other side of Azriel’s cot and laid a hand on his brow. I could hear Eris was breathing more easily now, and Helion was lifting him to move him to another cot. I looked up into Madja’s face, sure my own face held all my desperation and fear. 

“What happened?” she asked, and my mouth dried. Madja rarely asked us what had caused our injuries, and the fact that she was asking now filled me with dread.

“I don’t know what power it was. Keir had a book, and the air was warping, and our shadows came to life and attacked us, and Azriel was burning - not really burning but he felt like he was burning - and the light from his siphons was the color of the underworld and his heart stopped and he wont wake up.” I knew I was babbling but I couldn’t organize my thoughts. I turned my head to Helion, eyes pleading, and he provided a more coherent version of the events that led to us materializing in her house.

When he finished, Madja looked thoughtful. She finally removed her hand from Azriel’s forehead and sighed. “He is exhausted, his power completely drained along with the energy reserves of his body. He sleeps now; a deep, restorative sleep. I do not know why his heart stopped, nor what magic Keir might have used, but you did well in reviving him.”

I nodded, accepting her praise, but I needed more. “When will he wake up? Is he safe?”

“I don’t know,” she said, gently. “He needs to stay here for at least a few hours before we consider moving him. They both do.” And I was once again reminded that Eris was here. “I can sense his exhaustion, but my magic can find no injuries to heal. Beyond that, time will tell.”

“We need to go speak to Rhys and Feyre,” Helion said to me then, and I clutched Az’s hand a little tighter.

“No.”

“This can’t wait and you know it, Cassian. This is bad.”

“I’m not leaving him.” He rested his hand on my shoulder again in a gesture of comfort, but I shrugged it away.

“He is in good hands, Cassian, and there is nothing you can do for him here. We need to go report.”

“Then you do it. We were both there, you go tell them.” 

Silence stretched between us before Helion tried again.

“You are the general of the armies,” he said, and though his voice was still kind, there was an edge to it. “There is nothing you can do here,” he repeated. 

“Fine,” I snapped. He was right, and I hated it. I took a deep breath, and in a more moderate tone I tried again. “Fine. But can I have a minute alone with him first?”

They both nodded, and Helion went to stand by the front door. Madja made one last check of Eris, and returned to her seat at the worktable, her aged hands dexterously wrapping bandages into neat rolls.

Still clutching his hand as though the connection would keep him on this side of life, I rested my forehead on Azriel’s chest, over his heart. I kept my words low enough that the High Lord and the healer would not hear me. These words were for him alone.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered, and a tear escaped to land on the scaled plates of his armor. “We can finally have a home, Az. We’ll buy a house here in Velaris, or anywhere you want. We’ll get an obnoxiously big bed.” I swallowed the lump in my throat as I pictured it, the future we could have together, for the very first time. “I will take care of you forever. I promise. Just please, don’t go.” 

He didn’t so much as stir. I lifted my head from his chest and leaned to place a kiss on his brow, lingering a moment to draw the scent of him deep into my lungs. I stood and reluctantly released his hand, laying it gently at his side, and backed away one step. Then another. It went against every instinct to leave my mate here, drained and unconscious and wholly vulnerable. 

“Let’s make this quick,” I said to Helion, but it was Madja to whom I looked when I finally tore my eyes away from Az. She gave me a reassuring smile, a knowing look in her eyes.

“I will send word immediately if there is any change.”

“Thank you,” I managed to croak, before turning my back on Azriel and heading for the door, leaving my heart behind, with him.

* * *

The smell of baking bread wafted out from the kitchen and the first rays of dawn filtered through the windows as we gathered in the sitting room of the town house. Rhys had mentally summoned everyone at Helion’s request, waking most of them, and we were all in our usual seats; Feyre and Rhys on the far couch looking alert, Elain and Amren in the armchairs. Mor sat on the center couch with me, blinking sleepily, and Helion leaned his shoulder against the mantle facing us, having eschewed sitting down. I felt Azriel’s absence like a dull ache in my chest, but the bond slumbered quietly within me.

Helion broke the silence first. “We all have a very big problem.” He recounted the events again, much the same as he had done for Madja, and I was grateful that he spared me from trying to tell the story. He also tactfully avoided some of my more emotional moments with Azriel. I didn’t know if he suspected we were mates, or just thought we were lovers. My family would know the truth soon enough, I supposed, but I still wanted Az to be a part of that conversation. 

He finished by explaining that Azriel and Eris were unconscious at Madja’s house, and Rhys blew out a heavy sigh. His eyes were haunted, and Feyre’s face had gone pale. They love Az deeply - they love all of us - and it warmed my heart just a little to be reminded of that fact. It was comforting.

Rhys turned those frightened eyes on Amren. “Do you know what this power was that Keir used? What spellbook that may have been?”

She shook her head, short hair swaying, but her silver eyes never left Helion. “How did you use your power to escape? Did you somehow cleave the connection between Keir and Azriel?”

“No, I wasn’t sure what would happen to him if I tried.” Helion shifted a little on his feet and cut his eyes to me briefly before returning them to Amren. “Winnowing him out like I did was a big enough risk, and you know how that ended.”

Amren stared thoughtfully up at him and her gaze unfocused - no longer seeing Helion but traversing whatever mental roads she may have in that ancient, otherworldly head of hers. She may be High Fae now, or something like it, but it was impossible to forget just how long she had existed and how much she knew.

“How did you escape?” Amren repeated, voice as distant as that gaze. 

“I filled the room with so much light that the shadows were driven out. Light that bent back and filled every corner and crevice. I took the opportunity it afforded to winnow us away. It was all I could think to do.”

Amren looked a bit unsettled, and that fact alone was terrifying. Rhys and Feyre sat up a little straighter, perfect mirrors of unease, and even Mor - half asleep as she had been a few minutes ago - looked tense and alert. Amren swept her eyes around the room and settled them on Rhys and Feyre.

She shook her head as she spoke, dark hair swaying at her chin. “I’m not certain what book he used, but I will go to the library and see what I can find. It is undoubtedly some fresh horror from Hybern’s twisted Court. There are very, very old stories about Shadowsingers.” She turned her silver gaze on me, and the back of my neck prickled.

“The details are vague, but there are stories - ones mostly lost to time - of Shadowsingers being used as weapons. They were once coveted by rulers for more than their ability to sneak and spy. The sentiment and the reputation endured the passing of time better than the facts.” I nodded at that, encouraging her to continue. We all knew exactly how much time could twist, warp, and degrade information. I wasn’t sure why she was facing me - addressing me with this information instead of our High Lord and Lady - but I suspected she sensed something.

“The specifics of how the power was wielded is one of those details that I do not know. But there are stories of a single Shadowsinger being able to destroy legions of warriors. Mysterious, bloody slaughters that left piles of bodies, but showed no signs of an enemy. Of pure darkness in the middle of the day.” She shook her head. “I don’t know which are true and which are embellishments for bedtime stories.”

Cold, hard dread pooled low in my stomach. 

“And you’ve never thought to mention this before?” Rhys gritted out, drawing Amren’s attention away from me. 

She gave him a cool, almost disdainful look and said, “You’ve never asked me to tell you bedtime stories, boy.”

Feyre’s face had drained of color. “If Azriel could bring an entire army’s shadows to life, and if those shadows behave the same way as the ones you’ve described, they could slaughter thousands. Hundreds of thousands. For every soldier there would be a shadow with a weapon that couldn’t be killed.”

I thought back to the day Velaris was attacked, and what I had seen Feyre do in the Rainbow. She had fashioned wolves from the water of the Sidra itself and commanded them as they wreaked havoc on the enemy. I’d only seen bits and pieces of what she was doing while I fought in the sky, but she had run through those streets flanked by death itself; a tidal wave of elemental powers that washed the enemy away. I thought about how my own shadow had attacked me, and my blade had passed through it with no resistance. What Feyre had done was nothing compared to the scale that they were describing now.

Rhys turned back to Helion. “You were able to dispel the shadows with light. Could that work on a battlefield?” But Helion was already shaking his head before Rhys finished speaking.

“It worked because we were in a small, stone room. I was able to concentrate the light there. Out in the open, I might be able to protect a small group of people that were close to me, but the radius of protection wouldn’t be large enough to make a difference in a large fighting force.”

We discussed all the ramifications we could think of, and how to best keep Azriel safe. We wouldn’t know more - be able to plan more - until Eris woke up and, hopefully, gave us more information. 

At the first hint that we were wrapping up I started to jiggle my leg impatiently. Mother bless him, Rhys picked up on it and stood, making platitudes about reconvening after we’d done some research. Helion excused himself, clasping Rhys’s hand, and turned to go. 

When I stood, Amren caught my arm, looking up into my face, and kept her voice low. “We will protect him.” I didn’t know how much she suspected, but obviously something. I nodded and patted her hand where it lay on my forearm and then rushed after Helion, hoping to catch him before he departed. The delay almost cost me the opportunity, but I called after him as he reached the street and he turned to wait for me.

I jogged down the walk and came to a halt a few paces from him. “Thank you-” I blurted out, and then had to swallow against the fist that felt like it had lodged itself in my throat. I started shaking - the enormity of the past few hours finally sinking fully into me. He cocked his head to the side, giving me a small, ironic smile. I tried again, unable to keep the shaking from my voice. “Thank you for getting him out. And for trying not to hurt him in the process.”

“Perhaps I should’ve tried to sever the power first. I don’t know. He almost died.” The solemn words punched into my heart, but I took a deep breath.

“I didn’t see a way out of that room. I had no idea what to do,” I confessed. “You got him out. When I couldn’t save him, you got him out. Thank you.” 

He clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a knowing smile. “Good luck,” was all he said. Then he stepped back and winnowed away, presumably back to his own palace, with a small flash.

* * *

I’d gone straight back to Madja’s, unwilling to be away from Az any longer, and she had told me he was still stable and that I could take him to the House of Wind to rest. I considered asking one of the others to help me winnow him, but I wanted to move him myself. I needed to feel the solid weight of him in my arms. So I’d flown him up to the patio closest to my room - the one we had leapt from together - and settled him into my bed without really thinking about it.

I’d spent at least an hour sitting on the side of the bed staring at him before it occurred to me that he had his own room, and that I hadn’t even considered taking him there. I realized that he might need a few of his own things when he awoke though, and decided to run to his suite and grab some clothes.

It had been hard to pull myself from his side, but I told myself it would only be a few minutes, and that I would need to change his clothes even if he didn’t awaken. I’d only made it a few steps down the hall, though, when I smelled several unfamiliar scents, and one that I would know anywhere. It was Feyre.

The scents were concentrated at the door to the room that was two-down from mine; the empty bedroom that connected to my sitting room. I hadn’t noticed the traces when I’d brought Azriel in, but now that I didn’t have him pressed against me - his smell and warmth and closeness distracting me - I realized the faint scents ran down the hall, overlapping and doubling back. Curious, I opened the door and stepped inside.

There was a huge bed, as large as my own, that I had never seen before. It was a pale birch wood, almost white, that was polished enough that I could see the shine even in the indirect light. The other pieces of furniture were Azriel’s, but there were more unfamiliar touches. The coverings on the bed were made from a rich black fabric marbled with tiny stitches of gold and silver thread. Pale gray rugs covered the stone floor, lending the room some warmth, and I noted them curiously. Azriel had never had rugs in his room and I’d always found it odd.

I stepped carefully through the room, checking to make sure my boots weren’t leaving dirty prints on the new carpeting, and took it all in. Everything was monochrome, whites, blacks, grays, and metallic accents. But among the decorative pillows at the head of the bed was one of vivid scarlet, and one of richest blue. The exact shades of our siphons. 

I fought down against the emotions instinctively, not even letting myself register what they were, and opened the wardrobe. His scent wafted out at me as I looked at the neat, hanging sets of armor and shirts. 

Az had moved his room here to connect to mine.

I didn’t remember sitting on the bed, but I found myself staring at the wardrobe, mind blanking. _This is shock,_ a small but rational corner of my mind supplied. My whole body was shaking violently, and I grabbed the blue pillow, pressing it to my chest, trying to counteract the feeling that it was caving in.

My mate had almost fucking _died_. I’d pushed it all down and locked it up as hard as I could to be able to leave him with the healer; to be able to get through the meeting at the house, but those mental partitions broke apart and left me trembling. 

I stood and walked through the other door on numb legs, letting myself back into my sitting room on my way to Azriel, still clutching the cobalt pillow. The suite I had chosen for myself centuries ago had been larger than I’d needed, but I had been younger and more arrogant, and I had wanted the space. That room had sat, unused, ever since. And now Azriel had moved into it. I didn’t know exactly what that meant.

I settled myself back onto the bed, sitting beside his prone figure, and took up one of his hands. I stared and stared at his beautiful face, looking calm and relaxed in sleep. I let the pillow fall into my lap, and I reached out to brush my fingers against his cheek, where the bruise had been. My fingertips tingled, and I held my breath, but he didn’t stir. 

I allowed myself to trace the edge of his jaw with the backs of my fingers, noting that my hands were still shaking even though the full-body tremors were subsiding. I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip, where Madja had evidently healed the other small wound that I had caused. _Never again._

I lay down beside him, sliding under the covers, and wrapped my arms around him. I breathed him in deeply, and grounded myself and my sanity in the rhythmic sound of his breaths. I did not leave his side, and he did not wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that there's a decent amount of material here, I'm going to slow down and truly post once a week (On Thursdays) for a little while. That should give me time to prep a few more chapters. If I gain enough of a lead, I'll go back to twice-a-week later on :)  
> Any feedback, positive or constructive, is greatly appreciated. I love comments, not gonna lie. Cheers!


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